


The Miracle (A Supernatural Rewrite) - Season One

by itsangelpie



Series: The Miracle (Supernatural Rewrite) [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Death, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Mild Language, Multi, Reader is bisexual, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, supernatural rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 71,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25236598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsangelpie/pseuds/itsangelpie
Summary: (Y/n) (Y/l/n) has been a part of the Winchester family for the last 24 years. After the death of Mary Winchester, herself and the brothers are thrown into the dangerous world of hunting evil. Later when John Winchester goes missing, it's up to (Y/n), Sam, and Dean to find him. Who knew a small search and rescue mission would turn into so much more...Feedback and Kudos are greatly appreciated!
Relationships: Dean Winchester & You, Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You, Dean/reader, Eventual Dean Winchester/Reader - Relationship, Eventual Sam Winchester/Reader, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, John Winchester/Reader, Original Male Character/Original Female Character, Sam Winchester & You, Sam Winchester/Reader, Sam/Reader
Series: The Miracle (Supernatural Rewrite) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828231
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	1. "Pilot"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you in advance for your patience. I want to make this as accurate and enjoyable as possible. Here's the first episode! :)
> 
> Warning(s): language, canon violence, canon death, suicide mentioned, mentioning of endometriosis/infertility, confusing relationships with bother brothers, fluff, angst

_ Katherine sighed deeply as her eyes ran over the dark, angry clouds packed into the sky.  _

_ They huddled together, ready to once again disturb the everyday life of the residents of Lawrence, Kansas, and feed the many crops across the Sunflower State. She could already smell the fat drops of rain that were waiting for their cue to harshly descend to the earth and she knew the date that Julien had planned for them would have to be canceled.  _

_ Katherine signs once again, catching the attention of her husband who was now eyeing her with a sad smile.  _

_ “You’ve been doing that a lot lately, you know?” Julien states, placing down the newspaper that he had been reading. Katherine turns from the kitchen window to look at her husband.  _

_ “What?” She questions, her eyebrows furrowing in genuine confusion. He smiled at the action before standing up and reaching his large hands to grab her smaller ones.  _

_ “Sighing,” he answers, pulling her front into his. Katherine doesn’t meet his eye line, so they both know that he’s right. “I just really wanted to go on this date tonight, get my mind off things. But I guess the rain has other plans.” Katherine mumbles before almost sighing again, but she catches herself.  _

_ “All I can think about is the fact that I truly can’t-” she begins, but Julien’s gentle grasp on her shoulders halts her sentence. She didn’t have to finish for Julien to know what she was speaking about.  _

_ Earlier in the day, Doctor Graham had called Katherine with the confirmation that the tender stabbing feeling in her lower abdomen had been what she feared. Right after the painful information had been dropped in her lap, Doctor Graham went on about how sorry he was and the next steps that they could take to work through this, but his words fell upon deaf ears. She had stopped listening when the word “endometriosis” had come through the landline. It was a word she had always feared since that it was an illness that her mother had suffered from, but she was hoping it wouldn’t dig its claws into her dream of having a family.  _

_ “Baby, you told me what the doctor said. Having a child won’t be impossible, it’ll just be a little harder. But I know for a fact that you’re the strongest, bravest woman I know, so I know you can do this. We can do this.” As Julien spoke, Katherine shut her eyes and prayed to God that he was right. She also prayed for God to bless them with a miracle.  _

_ If only she knew how deadly that miracle would turn out to be. _

* * *

You couldn’t decide who was more stupid. 

Dean for thinking that sneaking into a college dorm room in the middle of the night was a practical plan or yourself for following him as he fumbled through the window. 

Once he was inside, Dean turns around and offers his hand to help you. You place your smaller hand into his for balance and gracefully climb in. Normally you would have thanked him for the help, but your mind was on someone else. 

When Dean brought up the idea of asking Sam for help to find John, you were torn. 

On one hand, you were elated to see your tall, puppy dog-eyed Sammy in person for the first time since he left. In the first year he attended Stanford, checking up on one another had been a regular occurrence. You would make sure he was safe and comfortable at school, and he would make sure his father and Dean weren’t working you too hard now that there were only three of you. But as the months passed after his freshman year, the interaction seemed to decline. Texts from you to the youngest Winchester went unanswered as he grew into his own, and your once-close relationship slowly fizzled away. While the occasional  _ ‘Happy Birthday!’ _ or  _ ‘Merry Christmas!’  _ was exchanged, any conversation after that ceased to exist. 

In other words, you hadn’t talked to someone you considered a best friend in over three long years. You couldn’t help but wonder what had changed about him, and apparently, the stress of seeing Sam was written all over your face. 

“Hey, you alright?” Dean's quiet, yet concerned question snatches you out of your thoughts. He only receives a nod as you begin to look around the darkened apartment. Dean begins to stealthily walk around the living room as your eyes start to adjust to the darkness. As you continue explore the apartment, a creaking floorboard seems to echo in the silent room. 

The noise startles the both of you, more so Dean, seeing as he whips around to see who made the floorboard creak and to make sure you were alright. In the process of this, he manages to knock over the small coffee table to his left, and you both cringe at the crashing sound it generates. 

If Sam wasn’t awake before, he surely was now.

You freeze as Sam’s silhouette appears to check for intruders. After he spots Dean walking across the room, it’s only a matter of seconds before he and Dean are going back and forth with each other. You watch the two brothers with crossed arms, once again annoyed that Dean went for a surprise entrance. Finally, Dean gets Sam on his back, and you nearly smile at the stunned look on Sam’s face. 

“Woah, easy, tiger,” Dean greets his brother with a quick smile. 

“Dean?” Sam questions, causing the older brother to chuckle. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“That’s ‘cause you’re out of practice.” The assumption from Dean is proven wrong as he is swiftly flipped over by Sam, which only causes another chuckle to pour out of his mouth. 

“Or not,” Dean claims, before telling Sam to get off of him. You can hear the blood rushing through your ears as the anticipation of speaking to Sam heightens. 

“Dean, what the hell are you doing here?” Sam asks while pulling his brother up off of the ground. 

“I was looking for a beer,” Dean replies, before peeking over Sam’s shoulder at you. “Well, I guess I should say  _ we _ were looking for a beer.” Sam turns around as you gain enough courage to step out of the shadows. A nervous smile appears on your face as you finally make eye contact with him. 

“Hi, Sammy,” you breathe out before looking back at Dean to calm your nerves. He winks at you and claps Sam on the back. 

“(Y/n)?” As he spoke, you could see that he was just as surprised to see you as he was to see his brother. You send him a more confident smile just as the light turns on. 

“Sam?” A feminine voice catches all of the attention in the room. A strikingly beautiful girl appears in the doorway and your eyes widen. You take in her appearance and try not to show your attraction to who you suspect is Sam’s girlfriend. Evidently, Dean is in the same boat as you, his eyes wide and lips parted slightly. 

“Jess, hey.” A pretty name for a pretty girl. 

“Dean, (Y/n), this is my girlfriend, Jessica,” Sam introduces the two of you to the blonde, long-legged beauty. 

“Wait? Your brother Dean? And (Y/n), your best friend that you’re always mentioning?” Jess questions, happy to finally put the faces to the names she had heard so much about. You smile at her, ready to properly introduce yourself, but Dean ruins the moment. 

“I love the Smurfs,” Dean comments, motioning towards the shirt she had previously been sleeping in. “You know, I got to tell you, you are  _ completely _ out of my brother’s league,” Dean vocalizes, and you roll your eyes at his crassness. 

“Just, let me put something on,” Jess announces, but Dean is quick to stop her. “No, no, no. I wouldn’t dream of it, seriously.”

“Ah, I’m sorry about him,” you pause to walk up next to Sam. “Unlike us, his manners haven’t quite evolved yet.” The giggle that you earn from Jess (and glare that you earn from Dean) makes you smile smugly. 

“It’s really nice to meet you.” You tell her warmly. “Me and Romeo here were wondering if we could steal Sam to talk about some private family business. It’ll only take a minute,” you reassure her, but Sam has other ideas. 

“No,” he declares looking at you first and then Dean. “No, whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her,” he finishes, walking over to his girlfriend and putting an arm around her waist. After a second, Dean glances over at you before accepting Sam’s challenge. 

“Okay. Um, Dad hasn’t been home in a few days.” Dean tells him. At the mention of John, you look towards the ground. 

“So he’s working overtime on a ‘Miller Time’ shift. He’ll stumble back in sooner or later.” 

Sam’s sassy tone when discussing his father wasn’t a surprise to you at all. They left their consistently rocky relationship even rockier when Sam decided to leave. The screaming match they considered a goodbye (along with your overwhelming sorrow at the thought of Sam leaving) led to Dean having to console a very drunk, teary-eyed version of yourself that night. As for Dean, the days after Sam’s departure were the hardest. Not only did he have to be the stronger one for the both of you, but he also had to deal with misplaced anger from his father. It did get better after you all finally worked to accept the fact that Sam wasn’t coming back, but it still didn’t make the situation any easier. 

Dean scoffs at Sam’s reply as you clarify for all of your sakes. 

“He’s on a hunting trip. And he hasn’t been home in a few days.” This information seems to flip on a switch in Sam’s mind and he speaks to his girlfriend without even looking at her. 

“Jess, excuse us.”

* * *

“I mean, come on! You can’t just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you two,” Sam exclaims as the three of you trudge down the stairs.

You felt the need to mention to him that sneaking in was entirely Dean’s idea, but you decided to stay silent. 

“You’re not hearing us, Sammy. Dad’s missing. We need you to help us find him.” Dean tried to plead with Sam, but apparently, it was going to take more than that.

“You remember the poltergeist in Amherst or the devil’s gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He’s always missing, and he’s always fine,” Sam mentions, his mind already going through the possibilities that you and Dean had already considered. 

“Not for this long,” Dean insists, turning to Sam as you reach the bottom of the stairwell. “Now are you gonna come with us or not?” Sam quickly gave his reply, and it wasn’t the one you were hoping for. 

“Why not?” Dean asks, taking the question right out of your mouth. Even though Sam and John never had the best relationship, he was still family. 

“I swore I was done hunting  _ for good _ ,” Sam states, and you repress the feeling to give him an eye roll. Sam glances at you quickly before Dean begins to speak. 

“Come on, it wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t that bad.” Dean tries to reason with Sam before walking off, you right behind him. 

“Yeah?” Sam objects, seemingly remembering his childhood different from Dean’s. “When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45. Whenever (Y/n) told him she had a bad dream, he’d tell her to remember them so she would be ready for the real world!” You nearly flinch at the memory of John forcing you to write down and read whatever you could recollect from your childhood night terrors. 

“What was he supposed to do?” Dean asks, making an effort not to look in your general direction so he wouldn’t have to see the uncomfortable expression on your face. 

“I was nine years old. And (Y/n) was even younger than that! He was supposed to say, ‘Don’t be afraid of the dark.’” You bit your tongue, already sensing the argument that was brewing between the two brothers. 

“Don’t be afraid of the dark? What, are you kidding me? Of course, you should be afraid of the dark. You know what’s out there,” Dean exclaims, currently not wanting to hear any criticism of his missing father. You decided to continue to stay silent, knowing whatever you say probably wouldn’t help the situation. 

“Yeah, I know. But still––the way we grew up after mom was killed and Dad’s obsession to find the thing that killed her, but we  _ still _ haven’t found the damn thing.” The way Dean turns his head away from both Sam and yourself indicates that he knew Sam was right. “So we kill everything we  _ can _ find,” Sam continues. 

Somehow, Dean still had the energy to throw back a rebuttal.

“Save a lot of people doing it, too,” he replies. 

“You think Mom would’ve wanted this for us?” Sam asks as he looks between you and Dean. You bit your bottom lip as you knew Sam's question would hit a nerve with Dean. The older Winchester slams the iron fence open and storms away but Sam isn’t done. 

“The weapon training and melting silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors,” Sam concludes as you collectively walk outside.

“So, what are you gonna do? Are you just gonna live some normal, apple-pie life? Is that it?” Dean questions, and if you weren’t mistaken, he sounded a little bit hurt. 

“No, not normal.” Sam stops Dean. “Safe.”

“And that’s why you ran away,” Dean interjects, looking anywhere but Sam. The hurt look that took over his face once more made you want to slip your hand into it and give him a squeeze, but you decided against it for the moment. 

“I was just going to college,” Sam corrects his brother. “It was Dad who said if I was gonna go, I should stay gone. And that’s what I’m doing.”

“Sammy, he’s in real trouble right now if he’s not dead already. I can feel it,” you plead to Sam. He looks at you for a moment with an unreadable expression on his face. You don’t know if it’s because this is the first time you’ve really spoken to him since reuniting or the thought of his father being dead, but he goes silent.

“We can’t do this alone,” You tell him, but he nods his head. 

“Yes, you can.” 

“Yeah,” you pause, looking at Dean before continuing “well, we don’t want to.”

Sam sighs before taking a few seconds to answer, and while you were afraid he was going to say no, Dean wasn’t. Once he saw the look on his younger brother’s face when you personally asked him for his help, Dean knew Sam wouldn’t be able to say no. 

Neither of them could ever say no to you. 

“What was he hunting?”

* * *

As you swung open the trunk, you were hit with the familiar smell of old metal and worn leather. After looking over the assortment of weapons that sat in the back of Baby, you step to the side to let Dean rummage inside of her. 

“All right. Let’s see,” Dean announces, rubbing his hand together before reaching inside a bag for an old book. “Where the hell did I put that thing?”

“So when Dad left, why didn’t you two go with him?” Sam asks from over your shoulder. You peek up at him and answer. 

“We were working our own gig––this voodoo thing down in New Orleans.” You could still taste the warm beignets that you shared with Dean in the middle of the French Quarter. 

“Dad let you two go on a hunting trip by yourself?” Sam's question causes Dean to stop what he was doing and turn to look at him. 

“We’re 26, dude. Plus, (Y/n)’s gotten  _ way _ better since you left. She’s a better shot than both of us. And if I’m being completely honest, she’s a better shot than Dad now too.” The flirtatious wink that Dean gives you forces a short laugh out from between your lips and both of the brothers smile at the sound. 

After a few more minutes, Dean finds what he was looking for. “So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy,” Dean paused to pass a page of the printed article to Sam, “they found his car, but he’d vanished. Completely M.I.A.” Dean explains to his brother as you take a few pages out of Dean’s hand. 

“So maybe he was kidnapped,” Sam offers, looking over the piece of paper. It was a good theory, but the page in your hand told you differently. 

“Yeah, well, here’s another one in April, another one in December ‘04, ‘03, and I’m guessing they go further back.” Dean nods his head at your assumption, as he looks through the rest of the article. 

“10 of them over the past 20 years.” Dean snatches the first page of the article back from Sam. “All men, all same 5-mile stretch of road,” Dean concludes, dropping the papers back into the trunk and pulling out a map. “Started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around.”

“That was about three weeks ago,” you reveal to Sam. 

“(Y/n) and I haven’t heard from him since, which is bad enough, and then we get this voice mail yesterday.” Dean then pulls out a tape recorder. As John’s voice fills the silence, you all fall quiet, trying to decipher what he was saying. 

“Dean, something is starting to happen. I think it’s serious. I need to try to figure out what’s going on.” John’s voice began to break away, his words becoming indistinct. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you listened to John warn Dean that you all were in danger. Although you had already heard the message before, the seriousness of his tone still worried you.

“You know there’s EVP on that?” Sam tells Dean, and you're somewhat proud of the fact that Sam seemed to lose none of the skills he learned as a child. 

“Not bad, Sammy. Kind of like riding a bike, isn’t it?” Dean jokes, but his little brother only shrugs him off with a head shake. 

“All right. I slowed the message down and ran it through a GoldWave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got.” The three of you listened as a female voice whispered something about how she can never go home. Dean clicks off the recorder and looks at you and Sam. 

“Never go home,” Sam repeats the phrase, and you begin to wrack your brain of why the mysterious voice felt that they couldn’t go home. Dean rises from the trunk and slams it shut before turning to his brother. 

“You know, in almost two years, we’ve never bothered you, never asked you for a thing.” Dean’s reminder seems to hit Sam as he turns away and sighs. 

“All right, I’ll go. I’ll help you find him,” Sam finalizes, and as Dean nods, you feel your heart swell with joy at the fact that Sam had actually decided to help. “But I have to get back first thing Monday,” Sam adds, and the smile that had appeared on your face just seconds ago falls. 

“Just wait here.” As he walks away to gather his things, you can’t stop the question from tumbling out of your mouth. 

“What’s first thing Monday?” As you ask, Dean tilts his head, also intrigued in the answer to your question. 

“I have an interview,” Sam discloses, but Dean doesn’t see the problem. 

“What, a job interview? Skip it,” He demands, irritated at the fact that Sam felt there was something more important than finding their father. 

“It’s a law-school interview, and it’s my whole future on a plate,” Sam clarifies, and you have to remind yourself that there was nothing that was going to make him come back for good. 

“Law school?” Dean repeats. Glancing over his face, you can’t tell if he's impressed or annoyed. 

Sam doesn’t respond to Dean’s questioning, more concerned with making sure he would be back on time. “So we got a deal or not?”

* * *

You watched from the backseat as Sam grabbed Dean’s box of cassette tapes. He begins to rifle through them, face frowning up when all he could find was old rock music. 

“Not a fan?” Your question pulls a breathless laugh from Sam as he knew that you already knew the answer. He continued to look through the tapes until a question popped into his head. 

“Where’s all your music? You’re in here just as much as Dean, and if I remember correctly, you’re more of a Billie Holiday or Ella Fitzgerald fan,” Sam recalls, and you smile at the fact that he remembered. 

“How’d you remember that?” You wonder out loud, and he contorts his body to look back at you. He pauses for a moment, almost looking as if he was seeing you for the first time since he’d left all over again. You begin to nervously chew on your bottom lip as his eyes run over you for what feels like forever. 

“Uh, Sam?” Your small voice shakes the tall man out of his trance and he quickly looks away from you to gain his composure. 

“I-I’m sorry, what was your question?” You could tell he was somewhat embarrassed about whatever had just happened, so you choose to ignore it for both of your sakes. 

“I asked how you remember what type of music I liked?” Sam furrows his eyebrows as he answers. 

“I mean, we grew up together, (Y/n). And I’ve only been gone for a few years, it’s not like I forgot everything about you,” Sam replies, you start to feel like it was stupid to ask that question in the first place. 

Of course, he would remember. He used to be your best friend. 

“Sorry, you’re right,” you mumble, looking anywhere but his eyes. “It just felt you were gone for way longer than that. Honestly, I kinda thought you forgot about me altogether.” The sad smile on your face told Sam that you weren’t mad––only disappointed. Disappointed in him for breaking his promise and disappointed in yourself for letting him get away with it. 

“(Y/n), I-”

“Don’t, Sam. It’s fine,” you state. He could tell that you didn’t feel like talking anymore when you shifted your body away from him and towards the window to look for Dean. Sam lets out a heavy sigh before turning back around to stretch his legs just outside the car. The sound of him rummaging through the tapes fills Baby again, and you sit, nearly frozen, silently praying for Dean to hurry up. 

After a few agonizing minutes, Dean emerges from the store with a cup of coffee for yourself and some junk food. 

“You’re the best,” you beam up at Dean, reaching through the window and carefully take the cup from him. He throws you a wink and a smile before walking to the other side of the car. 

“Hey. You want breakfast?” Dean asks Sam, showing off the food in his hands. Sam looks up, only to grimace at the sight of soda, chips, and an already half-eaten candy bar. 

“No, thanks,” he answers, turning back to the box in his lap. “So how’d you pay for that stuff? You two and Dad still running credit-card scams?” 

“Yeah, well, hunting ain’t exactly a pro-ball career.” You point out, as Dean takes the gas pump out of Baby. “Besides, all we do is apply. It’s not our fault they send us the cards,” Dean continues for you. 

“Yeah, and what names did you write on the application this time?” Sam challenges, closing the passenger door. 

“Uh… Bert Aframian and his son, Hector. (Y/n) applied as Rachel Fernsby. Scored three cards out of the deal,” Dean smirks, getting into the driver's seat. 

“Sounds about right,” Sam states, not surprised at all with the scam you were still profiting off of. “I swear, man, you gotta update your cassette tape collection,” Sam demands and you stifle a laugh when Dean asks why. 

“Well, for one: they’re cassette tapes. And two: Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica? It’s the greatest hits of mullet rock,” Sam explains, and Dean progressively gets more irritated. 

“House rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole,” Dean sasses, putting in one of the tapes that Sam was just complaining about. 

“You know, Sammy is a chubby 12-year-old. It’s Sam, okay?” Sam advises his older brother, but Dean chooses to ignore him as he increases the volume of the radio. 

“Sorry, I can’t hear you. The music’s too loud.” You only shake your head at Dean’s response, mentally preparing yourself to spend the next few days with two bickering brothers.

* * *

Sam was just hanging up the phone as the car passed the road sign signaling that you were 7 miles outside of Jericho, California. 

“All right, so there’s no one matching Dad at the hospital or the morgue. So that’s something, I guess,” Sam tells you, relaying the information he was told over the phone. This news should have been relieving, but it still didn’t settle the nagging feeling in your stomach that something was wrong. Just because John’s body wasn’t resting in a metal cubby in some morgue, it didn’t mean that he was safe. 

As you begin to worry your bottom lip over all of the things that could have happened to John, a scene of police cars appears before you. Your eyebrows furrowed together as it became clear that you have driven upon a crime scene. 

“Check it out,” Dean announces, perking up at the thought of some action. Both Sam and yourself shift in your seats to get a better look while Dean slows down to pull over. Your eyes flick to Dean as he kills the engine, and you could see the wheels churning in his head. He reaches over to the glove compartment and pulls out a familiar box filled with fake IDs and phony badges. 

Sam’s eyes widen as he spots the contents of the box. You both ignore the look of shock on his face as Dean takes out three ID’s, handing one to you and throwing another into Sam’s lap before exiting the car. 

“Let’s go,” Dean urges, looking at Sam quickly before exiting the car. You follow him swiftly, already knowing who you were supposed to be impersonating as soon as the leather badge case touched your hand. 

As the three of you approach the scene, your eyes run over the seemingly abandoned blue car that the county sheriff was inspecting. 

“So this kid Troy–– he’s dating your daughter, isn’t he?” 

You feel it was the best decision to listen and gather as much information as you can without asking any questions. 

“How’s Amy doing?” Concluding that Amy is the daughter, you keep quiet so see what other information you could collect. 

“She’s been putting up missing posters downtown.” You begin to feel sorry for the formerly mentioned stranger, understanding the heartache and worry that someone went through when their loved one went missing. 

“You fellas had another one like this last month, didn’t you?” Dean interrupted, gaining the attention of the two county sheriffs, and you almost felt the need to scold Dean for his cocky tone. Ignoring the urge, you put on the act of your respective role, following between Dean and Sam as one of the sheriffs asked the infamous question. 

“And who are you?” You could tell by his tone that he did not appreciate Dean’s macho act. 

Walking up to the deputy, Dean whips out his fake credentials. “Federal Marshals,” Dean states, not letting him get a good look at his fake ID.

“You three are a little young for Marshals, aren’t you,” he inquires, and Dean huffs out a laugh. 

“Thanks, that’s awfully kind of you,” Dean tells the sheriff, before strolling towards the empty car. “You did have another one just like this, correct?” You were grateful for how quickly Dean changed the subject, pushing any suspicion of the truth behind you for the moment. 

“Yeah, that’s right. About a mile up the road. There have been others before that.” The deputy tells the three of you, looking down the bridge. 

"So this victim––you knew him?” Sam asks the deputy, and he nods. “A town like this, everybody knows everybody,” the deputy explains as you make your way around the car. 

“Any connection between the victims, besides, that they’re all men?” You question a few feet away, peeking inside the deserted automobile. 

“No. Not as far as we can tell,” the deputy answers, and you nod. You begin to look deeper inside the car to try and get a feel of what you were dealing with as Sam inserts himself into the conversation. 

“So what’s the theory?”

“Honestly,” the sheriff pauses,” we don’t know––serial murderer, kidnapping ring.” As the sheriff rattles ideas about the reason for the disappearances, you and Dean make eye-contact at the same time, both knowing it was more than just your average sadistic human. 

“Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I’d expect out of you guys.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at Dean’s wisecrack and you remind yourself to thank Sam for whatever action he took that caused Dean to let out a pitiful cough. 

“Thank you for your time,” you express to the deputy before turning to walk back to Baby. You hear Sam mutter a farewell as the brothers follow your lead. 

After a few seconds of walking in silence, you watch as Dean gives Sam a hard slap on the back of his head. 

“Ow! What was that for?” Sam hisses, looking back at his older brother, and then to you for help. You shrug your shoulders and let the brothers continue their bickering. 

“Why do you have to step on my foot?”

“Why do you have to talk to police like that?”

“Come on!” Dean exclaims, stopping both you and Sam. “They don’t really know what is going on. We’re all alone on this,” he pleads, mainly to his brother. “I mean, if we’re gonna find Dad, we’ve got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves,” Dean finishes, and you can’t say that you didn’t agree with him. 

Before anyone could say anything else, a voice behind you pipes up. You cringe internally as you come face-to-face with who you suspect were a pair of real U.S. Marshals. 

“Can I help you all?” The deputy that was accompanying them questions, and you shift uncomfortably. 

“No, sir. We were just leaving,” Dean tells him before acknowledging the Marshals. “Agent Mulder, Agent Scully.” You and Sam share an uncomfortable look, following Dean to the car. The three of you walk in silence, as you feel a heated pair of eyes on your back. 

You could only hope that the run-in wouldn’t cause you any trouble later in the case.

* * *

Finally spotting Amy, Troy’s girlfriend, putting up missing posters of her lost lover, you call out for Sam and Dean to wait. “Hold up,” you commanded, pulling the brothers to the side of the sidewalk. 

“What’s wrong?” Sam and Dean speak at the same time, which leads to both of them quickly glaring at each other before returning their attention back onto you. You smile at how easily they have fallen back into old habits prior to speaking. 

“Maybe I should take the lead on this one,” you suggest and continue to explain your reasoning. “If I was already stressed out about my boyfriend being missing, I probably wouldn’t want two gigantic strangers asking me weird questions about it.”

“What? We’re not that scary,” Dean whines, peeking over to make sure Amy hadn’t walked off. “I was just gonna say we were Troy’s uncles or something. Wouldn’t be too hard to swing,” he shrugs, but you still think you talking to her first would be a smarter idea. 

“Just let me try first,” was the only thing you said before turning to approach Amy, leaving an amused Sam and grumbling Dean to follow behind you. 

Walking up to the young woman, you greet her easily to show that you meant no harm. “Hey. You must be Amy.”

“Yeah,” she confirms, not looking away from the missing poster she was busy hanging. 

“Um, my name is (Y/n), I’m an old friend of Troy’s,” you introduce yourself before gesturing to the brothers that were standing behind you. “These are his uncles, Sam and Dean.” The brothers give her a quick greeting and she finally gives you her full attention. 

“He never mentioned you to me,” she replies, giving the three of you a quick once over as she moves to grab another flyer from the purse hung on her shoulder. 

“Well, like she said, she’s an old friend. And we don’t talk to him a lot anymore,” Dean adds from behind you as you walk with her, “We’re not around much. We’re up in Modesto.”

“So we’re looking for him, too, and we’re kind of asking around,” Sam includes, stopping in front of her. You want to throw a quick glare at the boys, annoyed that they took the lead, but you’re interrupted by another woman who had walked up towards Amy. 

“Hey, are you okay?” she asks, and Amy expresses that she’s fine as you step in between Sam and Dean. “Do you mind if we ask you a couple of questions?” Your soft and easing tone convinces the girls to sit down and speak. The next thing you know, you’re sitting on one side of a booth with Dean, Sam to the side of you in a chair that he had pulled up, and Amy and her friend sitting across from you. 

“I was on the phone with Troy,” Amy begins. “He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and he never did.” Your heart fills with sorrow as you listen to her emotional description of the last time he talked to Troy. 

“He didn’t say anything strange or out of the ordinary?” Sam questions, puppy-dog face at full force so he would come off as non-intrusive as possible. 

“No, nothing I can remember,” Amy confirms and you sigh quietly at the lack of information you’ve gained from the conversation so far. The longer you took to investigate, the longer Troy was missing. The longer he was missing, the higher the probability that you would find him dead. 

“Here’s the deal, ladies––the way Troy disappeared––something’s not right. So if you know anything…” Dean’s bluntness was usually a curse, but at this moment you saw it as a blessing, seeing as it generated an incredulous look between the two young women sitting in front of you. 

“What is it?” You inquire, sitting up in both concern and curiosity. 

“Well, it’s just––I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk,” Amy’s friend tells you, and you begin to wonder if she was pertaining to the people missing in the articles you had read previously. 

“What do they talk about?” Sam and Dean speak at the same time again, and you realize that it was an instance you had missed. 

“It’s kind of this local legend.” Amy’s friend speaks once again, leaning closer towards you as she speaks. “This one girl, she got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago,” She explains, and Dean gives both Sam and yourself a look as she continues. “Well, supposedly, she’s still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up––well, they disappear forever. 

Sam lets out a heavy breath as you sit back in your seat trying to process the information just given to you. 

“Well, thank you for talking to us,” you smile, pulling out a bill from your wallet to pay for the coffee you all ordered. “Hopefully someone will find Troy safe and sound,” Dean tells them, with no intention of implying that the someone was the people sitting right in front of them. Sam moved to put the chair back at its original table as you and Dean exit the booth. 

“Thanks again,” Dean says to Amy and her friend, setting a soft hand at the dip of your back to guide you out of the coffee shop. Sam follows both of you with a lingering gaze on Dean’s hand. He keeps quiet as he follows you outside, equating the small pang of envy that filled his body to the fact that he was just missing Jess. 

Surely that’s all it was. 

After leaving the coffee shop, the next hour was dedicated to looking for any and everything you could find on the murder of the woman mentioned by Amy’s friend. Unfortunately, all of the keywords Dean typed into the search engine came up with the same result: nothing. 

Sam, patience wearing thin, shoves Dean over as the computer shows zero results once again. 

“I got it,” Dean assures, but it wasn’t enough for Sam who shoves Dean’s chair further to the side. Dean gives Sam a hard look before hitting his arm, and as the brothers have a quick argument you take the opportunity to see if you could find anything yourself. 

Both of the brothers exclaim when you push Sam over into Dean to have enough space to move in front of the computer. “What the hell, (Y/n)!” You keep your eyes on the computer screen as you give the brothers a swift reply. 

“We won’t get anything done if you both keep acting like five-year-olds.” There were a few moments of silence as the boy took your reply as a light scolding. Luckily, they didn’t concentrate on it long, realizing you were correct. 

“So angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?” You question, ready to get back on track, and Dean answers yes. “Then maybe it’s not murder.” Wondering aloud, you quickly search  _ ‘Female Suicide Centennial Highway’ _ . You have to work to keep the smirk from forming on your face as you catch the impressed look of both of the brothers. 

“This was 1981. Constance Welch, 24 years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river,” You read aloud, eyes then trailing to the picture of a woman smiling brightly. 

“Does it say why she did it?” Sam asks, trying to get a closer look at the computer. “Yeah,” you nod, grimacing at what you had yet to tell them. “About an hour before they found her, she calls 911. Her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren’t breathing. Both die,” you conclude, tone becoming mournful after finally understanding had happened. 

Dean hums before Sam continues reading the article. “‘Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn’t bear it.’ said husband, Joseph Welch.” 

“That bridge look familiar to you?” You take a few seconds to look at the picture and then realization blankets over you. It wasn’t that long ago that the three of you were just standing on this bridge, impersonating U.S. Marshals. Now it was all tying together, and you had a feeling that your day was long from over. 

* * *

Sylvania Bridge seemed to be much more sinister at night. It’s eerie feeling was only enhanced by your knowledge of the suicide of Constance, a grieving mother who believed that the death of her children was of her own fault. 

“So this is where Constance took the swan dive,” Dean announces as you all look over the bridge at the rushing water of the river. 

“So you think Dad would have been here?” You feel your mood shift a bit at the mention of John and you could only pray that you were getting closer to finding him. “Well, he’s chasing the same story, and we’re chasing him,” Dean offers as you all move away from the edge. 

“Okay, so now what?” It was clear that Sam was becoming impatient and you had almost forgotten that he had somewhere––and someone––to get back to. 

“Now we keep digging ‘till we find him,” Dean tells his brother. “It might take a while,” he adds, looking back at Baby to figure out what the next stop would be. 

“Dean, I told you I’ve got to get back by–”

“Monday. Right. The interview,” Dean interrupts Sam’s pleads, and you could tell his irritation level was growing. “Yeah, I forgot. You’re really serious about this, aren’t you? You think you’re just gonna become some lawyer, marry your girl?” Dean’s tone becomes somewhat teasing as he continues to verbalize his displeasure in where Sam’s focus seemed to be. 

“Maybe. Why not?” Sam demands, and you already know what Dean is going to say. “Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you’ve done?” You bite your lip and shift uncomfortably, sensing another argument brewing. 

“Dean, please,” you beg, not wanting them to address these things while standing in the middle of a haunted bridge. 

“No, and she’s not ever going to know,” Sam assures, and you hurry to step in between the two brothers as the tension rises again. “Well, that’s healthy,” Dean nearly scoffs, sarcastically nodding his head. “You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later you’re gonna have to face up to who you really are.” You slowly and silently follow behind Sam and he walks towards Dean. 

“Who is that?” 

“One of us,” Dean insisted, gesturing to him and yourself as he continued to walk. “No, I’m not like you two. This is not going to be my life!” Sam’s statement causes you to frown up, somewhat hurt by what he said. You knew he had a life––a good one––back at Stanford, but you had the smallest hope that maybe he would stay. Just for a little longer. 

“Well, you have a responsibility,” Dean emphasized, much to Sam’s dismay. “To Dad and his crusade? If it wasn’t for pictures, I wouldn’t even know what Mom looks like.” You swallow hard at the mention of Mary and Dean does the same. 

“What difference would it make?” Sam questions. “Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom’s gone and she isn’t coming back.” Dean stares at Sam for a moment before roughly shoving him against one of the metal poles of the bridge. Rushing up, you grab Dean’s arm to try and wiggle Sam free, but he doesn’t budge. 

“Dean, stop! This isn’t gonna solve anything, okay? Let him go and we can deal with it later.” Dean’s eyes trail down to your face, and his softens. Your hand squeezes his arm to let him know that it’s okay and he takes a deep breath. His gaze hardens again as he looks back up at his brother. 

“Don’t talk about her like that,” is the last thing Dean growls before letting Sam go. You gently push him a few steps back, before checking on the younger brother. 

“You okay?” You breathe out and he sends you a nod of appreciation letting you know that he was fine. You turn away from both of the brothers as everyone tries to gain the composure. You are about to petition to just go find a motel and start fresh in the morning, but something catches your eye. 

“Guys,” you mutter, eyes fixated on a woman in a white dress, standing on the ledge of the bridge. You feel the warmth from both of them behind you as they freeze right behind you. You all watch as she turns to you, before swan diving into the river below. The three of you rush into action, sprinting to the other side of the bridge to see where she had gone. 

“Where’d she go?” Sam asks and you give the same reply as Dean. 

“I don’t know.” 

As you squint your eyes and try to focus on finding her, you are startled by the sound of an engine turning over. All of the attention is now on Baby as her headlines switch on. 

“What the–” you wonder aloud as you all stare at the vehicle. “Who’s driving your car?” Sam questions and you turn towards Dean, awaiting an answer. You look to Sam as Dean pulls the keys out of his pocket. The car then takes off right in your direction, and it takes a few seconds for you to realize what’s happening. 

“Come on. Let’s go! Go!” You gladly follow Sam’s demands, turning and running as fast as you possibly could. Feet pounding on the concrete, you feel the car beginning to catch up. Following Sam and Dean, you throw yourself over the ledge, but hold on so you wouldn’t fall into the muddy river below. 

Your eyes widen as you realize that there is only one person next to you. You grip the ledge you were hanging on for dear life and send a panicked look to Sam. 

“Dean!” He screams, and you do your best to look for him, but the fresh tears that have begun to pool in your eyes make it difficult. You call out Dean’s name with Sam and your heart starts again when you hear a response. 

“What?” He grumbles, crawling out of the pile of mud he landed in. You let out a breath of relieds before calling out to him. “Hey, are you alright?” 

“I’m super,” Dean affirms while gesturing that he was fine. You can’t help but laugh in disbelief as Sam climbs over the ledge and then helps you back over. You give him a small smile before racing over to help Dean. 

After making it back to Baby, Dean checks to make sure everything is alright. With the chance of Constance coming back, the last thing you needed was to be stuck on the bridge with no working car. 

“She alright,” you ask as Dean finishes inspecting the engine. 

“Yeah, whatever she did to it, it seems to be all right now,” he ensures, slamming the hood shut. 

“That Constance chick––what a bitch!” At Dean’s exclamation, you wouldn’t have been surprised if she came and finished him off right then and there. You take a seat on the hood of the car as Sam looks back down the bridge to make sure she wouldn’t show up again. Dean sits down next to you, looking drained from the events that had just occurred. You would have given his hand a squeeze, but decided against it since it was caked in mud. 

“Well, she doesn’t want us digging around, that’s for sure,” He says, taking a spot on the other side of you. “So where’s the trail go from here, genius?” Sam asks his brother, and Dean throws up his arms in hopelessness. You cringe at the smell that flies off of him and subtly move close to the taller Winchester. 

Sam takes a minute to sniff the air before muttering, “You smell like a toilet,” to his older brother. You stifle your laugh and give Dean a sympathetic smile. 

“He’s right.”

* * *

“Two rooms please,” Dean tells the man at the front desk of the motel. You frowned up when you gathered that the extra room was for you, but quickly realized that you would get a whole bathroom to yourself. 

The clerk looks down at the master-card before looking back at Dean. “You guys having a reunion or something?” He asks, and you tilt your head. “That other guy, Bert Aframian. He came in and bought out a room for the whole month.” 

Your eyes widen when you hear the familiar name and it’s only a matter of minutes before Sam is picking the lock to John’s room while you and Dean stand watch. You walk in first, looking around at the mess of a room. As Sam yanks his brother inside, you switch on a lamp and wrinkle your nose in disgust when it reveals a half eaten burger. You groan as it becomes apparent that it’s at least a week old. 

“I don’t think he’s been here for a couple of days at least,” You mutter, looking back at Sam who was inspecting the ring of salt John had around the door. 

“Salt, cat’s-eye shells,” he lists off, “he was worried, trying to keep something from coming in.” 

Dean steps closer to the wall, eyes running over the many sheets of paper that filled it. You travel over to him, trying to get a better look at what the papers said. 

“What do you got here?” Sam asks, following you. 

“Centennial Highway victims,” Dean informs you, looking at his father’s handiwork. “I don’t get it,” Dean says, “I mean, different men, different jobs, age, ethnicities. There’s always a connection, right?” 

Sam doesn’t answer Dean, too busy looking at the information on the other side of the room. You walk up beside him, interested in the drawings of dark creatures and wonder what they were. Looking over to a small slip of paper taped to the wall, Sam turns on the small lamp that sat on a nearby table. Multiple pictures of a woman dressed in all white were illuminated and he released a brief laugh in disbelief. 

“Dad figured it out.”

Both you and Dean turn to Sam. “What do you mean?” Dean asks as you move to see what Sam was looking at. You see the words  _ Woman in White _ scribbled on a small piece of paper and soon understand what you were hunting. 

“He found the same article we did; Constance Welch. She’s a Woman in White,” You announce and Dean turns back around the pictures of the victims with a smirk.

“You sly dogs.” He smirks. “All right, so if we’re dealing with a Woman in White, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it,” Dean states, and you vocalize your agreement. 

“She might have another weakness,” Sam proposes, but Dean disagrees. “No, Dad would want to make sure. He’d dig her up. Does it say where she’s buried?” 

“No, not that I can tell.” Sam shakes his head. “If I were Dad, thought, I’d go ask her husband, if he’s still alive.” 

The room is silent for a moment as you look around one last time, seeing if there was anything missed. 

“All right, why don’t you two see if you can find an address? I’m gonna get cleaned up,” Dean announces, happy that he could finally get the smelly mud off of his body. But before he entered the shower, Sam had something to say. 

“Hey, Dean, what I said earlier about Mom and Dad––I’m sorry,” Sam apologizes and you could tell how guilty he was by just looking at him. Dean holds up his hand to halt him. 

“No chick-flick moments.”

You roll your eyes at his attempt to come off as manly as possible. 

“All right, jerk,” Sam laughs and Dean responds hastily. 

“Bitch.” 

“Morons,” You laugh, happy that they had made up, at least for the moment, without getting into another argument. Dean delivers you a quick wink before retreating to the bathroom. You watch as Sam slowly approaches a mirror in front of him, picking up a picture you recognize instantly.

It was an old photo of yourself, the boys, and John all smiling brightly and huddled together lovingly in the back of a truck. Your heart warms at the memory, wishing you could go back to those days. 

No, life wasn’t simple during that time, but you felt it was better than now. 

“We’ll find him, Sammy,” you murmur, placing a soft hand on his back in support. He turns, giving you a softhearted smile before putting the picture back. “I know.”

You remove your hand and walk over to the bed. “Do you mind if I hang in here? I know I have my own room, but––”

“Yes!” You both flinch at how loud Sam’s voice comes out. He sheepishly smiles before continuing. “Sorry, I mean no. I don’t mind if you stay, it’s cool,” he babbles out and you laugh, thanking him. 

Sitting on the bed, you remain quiet, wondering why you felt so on edge around him. Not communicating for three years would put a strain on any relationship, but this was Sammy. 

The Sammy who you read back to sleep when he woke up from a bad dream. The Sammy who you hid with from Dean when you would play hide-in-seek at Bobby’s house. The Sammy who you would tell stories about his mother to when Dean didn’t want to talk about her. 

But he was also the Sammy who ended up abandoning his plan of calling you at least once a week. The Sammy who started deleting your emails during his sophomore year at Stanford. The Sammy who broke his promise and your heart when he stopped talking to you altogether. 

“Hello?” 

You shove yourself out of your thoughts when you realize that Sam is speaking to you. 

“What?” You exhale, snapping your head over to Sam who now was sitting next to you. He chuckles in amusement before repeating his question. “I asked how have you been? We uh,” he pauses, no longer smiling, “haven’t really talked in a while.” 

“Oh, sorry. I’ve been okay. Hunting’s keeping me busy,” you answer, pointedly ignoring the last part of his statement. He nods, rubbing his hand against his thighs signalling that he was somewhat uncomfortable. For both of your sakes, you decide to try and break through the excruciatingly awkward atmosphere. 

“Stanford seems to be treating you well. Good thing too, because I’m sure Dean will need you in sometime down the road.” You both laugh at your playful jab aimed at his brother and nods in agreement. “Yeah, he probably will.”

As your laughter bubbles out, you catch Sam looking at you; the same look he was giving you at the gas station. 

“What?” You wonder aloud, and he takes a moment to answer. 

“Nothing. I’m just now realizing how much I’ve actually missed you,” he says, smiling sadly, nudging you with his shoulder. Peeking up at him through your eyelashes, you mumble back, “I’ve missed you too, Sammy.” You take his abnormally large hand into yours and grip it tightly. 

You didn’t fully forgive him yet, but you didn’t want to leave your relationship on a worse note when he went back to school. Looking back down at Sam’s hand, you rub your thumb over his knuckles, but freeze when you remember that he has a girlfriend. 

A very kindhearted and pretty girlfriend. 

“You should check on her.” At the mention of Jess, Sam seems to snap out of his haze and back into reality. You take your hand back and pat him on the leg before standing and moving to the other side of the bed. You don’t want to intrude, but you can’t help but strain your ears to try and hear what Jess was saying on the voicemail she left for Sam. 

He didn’t get very far into the message before Dean strolls out of the bathroom, considerably more clean than when he went in. 

“Hey, guys. I’m starving. I’m gonna grab a little something to eat at that diner down the street,” he announces before turning to you. “Come on, (Y/n). You look like you could use some food too.” You grin at him as he walks over and hoists you up off of the bed. 

“You want anything?” Dean asks, turning back to his brother. “Aframian’s buying,” he presses again but Sam shakes his head no, more occupied with his voicemail from Jessica. 

Dean opens the door, letting you exit first before he follows. As you step out into the parking lot, you, something catches your eye. “Hey,” you call out to Dean, not bothering to look away from the clerk who was conversing with two officers. Dean stops walking, following your gaze, only to see that the clerk was now pointing right at the two of you. 

You both turn away, already knowing you’ve been spotted by them. You watch as Dean pulls out his cellphone, sending a quick warning to Sam. 

“Dude, Five-0. Take off,” Dean rushes out and you look back and see the officers walking towards you. “Uh, they kind of spotted me and (Y/n). Go find Dad.” Whipping around, you try and give the officers the most dazzling smile you can manage. 

“Problem, officers?” you ask innocently, recognizing them from the bridge. 

“Where’s your partner?” 

Dean sends the deputy an exaggerated shrug which reminds you that, when under pressure, he is not as smooth as he thinks he is. “Partner? What––what partner?” The officer questioning you doesn’t look convinced as he signals for the other officer to go and check the motel room you had just come out of. You only watched as he walked over, not wanting to raise more suspicion, although you didn’t think that was possible. 

“So fake U.S. Marshal, fake credit cards,” the deputy lists off, “you got anything that’s real?” 

Your original plan to try and take an easy route out of this, explaining that this has all just been one big misunderstanding. But unfortunately, Dean has other ideas. 

“My boobs,” Dean answers back with an annoyingly charming smile. You sighed, knowing what would happen next. You begin to hear the ever so familiar sound of metallic clicking and silently curse Dean when you feel the cold metal of shiny handcuffs engulf your wrists. After walking you down to the police car, you watch as they are a little more rough with Dean. He smiles bashfully at you when he is shoved into the hood of the police car. 

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

* * *

You assumed that Dean was digging an even deeper hole for both of you as he ran his mouth, overconfident attitude pissing off the officer given the responsibility of dealing with him. The chance of Dean behaving himself was slim, and you could only hope that Sam was working on a way to get you out of here. 

The longer you were stuck in the police station, the longer he was out on his own. 

It’s not that you didn’t trust him, but it was clear that finding John was going to take longer than the time he had given you. That left you and Dean with the task of finding him, and you couldn’t do that if you were in jail. 

You snap your head up when the door opens and are relieved when you see a familiar pair of green eyes looking back at you. 

“My savior,” you tease, and he smirks back at you before rushing up and working on your cuffs. 

“Let’s get outta here, sweetheart.”

Once you are free, Dean grabs your hand and pulls you into a small hallway. After moving quickly and hiding a few times, you and Dean were able to sneak out through a back entrance. 

“Run,” you demand, running down an alleyway. Sidewalks would have been easier, but there was a risk of getting spotted and put right back where you started. A few minutes go by before you feel like you’re far enough from the police station to turn your focus onto something else. 

“We need to call Sam,” Dean advises, but grimaces when he remembers neither of you have your phone, which were confiscated after you were detained by the local police. You blow out a breath of irritation, but freeze when you spot something behind Dean. Smiling, you motion to the phone booth with your head. 

“Look,” you tell Dean, and he turns quickly. “Sweet,” he mutters as you both rush over to the booth and he dial Sam’s number. After a few rings Sam picks up, relieved that his plan had worked. 

“Fake 911 phone call, Sammy? That’s pretty illegal,” Dean teases, and you yell a quick ‘thank you’ through the phone causing Sam to laugh before he replies.

“You’re welcome.”

“Listen, we gotta talk,” Dean declares and Sam agrees with him, itching to tell them his newfound knowledge. 

“Sammy, would you shut up for a second?” Dean requests, but Sam keeps speaking. 

“Well, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s gone. Dad left Jericho.” Your eyes widen at his statement, wondering how he had come to this conclusion. Dean looks over at your stunned face and puts one finger in the air, signally that he would explain later. 

Sam’s reply reveals that he was just as confused as you were. 

You watch as Dean pulls out John’s journal from the inside of his jacket. Your heart skips a beat at the recognizable book. You know that John wouldn’t go anywhere without his journal, and if he did, it wasn’t voluntary. 

“I’ve got his journal,” Dean informs Sam, and you deflate at the fact that John wasn’t as close as you had hoped. “Yeah, well he did this time.” The brothers' conversation fades away for a few moments as you look out into the night, worried and exhausted. 

“Sam! Sam!” 

You bolt back towards Dean, his shouts warning you that something is wrong. He continues yelling into the phone for Sam, but he gets no answer. Slamming the phone down, Dean growls in frustration. 

“Sam’s in trouble. We gotta find him.”

* * *

When you and Dean had finally found Sam, it was almost too late. 

Constance’s true form was on top of Sam, digging her fingers into his chest, which evoked a loud wail from Sam. With no concern for the Impala’s windows, you and Dean fire multiple rounds into the car, effectively hitting Constance and spooking her away. 

You watch as Sam sits up and starts the engine with a determined look on his face. 

“I’m taking you home,” he declares before slamming his foot on the gas. The sound of a revving engine fills your ears as you watch Sam crash into the old house, causing it to collapse. As the dust clears, you hurry through the large whole in the front of the house with Dean following closely behind. 

“Sam!” Dean calls out, considerably worried that Sam was injured in some way. A feeling of relief falls over you when you hear him reply back. 

“Here!” 

You rush up to the presumably totaled car at the sound of his voice. You ask if he’s alright and he gives you a response good enough for the time being, but you made a mental note to check for any injuries later. 

“Can you move?” Dean asks, moving in beside you to move some of the wreckage out of the car. 

“Yeah. Help me,” He grits out, reaching for Dean’s hand. Once Sam was fully out of the car, you spotted a furious Constance staring back at you. She throws down the old portrait that she was holding and suddenly you and the brothers are pinned against Baby by an old dresser. 

Groans pour out of the three of you as you attempt to force the heavy object away, but even the combined strength wasn’t enough to overpower a pissed off spirit. 

The lights begin to flicker as two figures appear at the top of the stairs. The water continuously dripping off of their bodies leads you to believe that they are her children; the ones that had drowned on her watch. 

Constance turned to them, and she almost looked afraid. 

“You’ve come home to us, Mommy.” You shiver at the drone that is the childrens’ voices and watch as they take hands. The children appear behind Constance, and she can only scream as they all disappear into a puddle of water on the floor (which you find highly ironic).

With Constance’s spirit gone, you are able to push the dresser out from in front of you. Walking over to the motionless puddle of water, you examine it as if she would jump out and pull you in. 

“So this is where she drowned her kids,” Dean concludes and you nod. “That’s why she could never go home.” you add, eyes still fixated on the puddle. “She was too scared to face them.”

“You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy,” Dean praises his brother, slapping the very spot that Constance was clawing. Sam laughs through the pain as Dean walks over to his car. 

“I wish I could say the same for you two.” Sam claims, turning to you. “What were you two thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freaks?” 

You frown and lightly slap Sam on the arm. 

“Hey, we saved your ass,” you grumble, “you should be thanking us.” You earn a nod of agreement from Dean as he turns back to Baby. 

“I’ll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car,” Dean pauses to look at Sam, “I’ll kill you.” Sam laughs at the threat and while you smiled along with him, you can’t help but think there was some truth to Dean’s warning. 

Before Dean could check if Baby was generally healthy, you all took on the task of clearing out the loose debris around her. It takes about 20 minutes before the area is cleaned out and Baby is backed out of the aged house, ready to carry you during your next assignment: finding John. 

* * *

With Dean concentrating on the road ahead of him, you took the job of providing the light for Sam as he seeked out the exact location of the coordinates left for you all by John. You were sitting up in the backseat, flashlight propped up in one hand when Sam finally identified John’s whereabouts. 

“Okay, here’s where Dad went. It’s called Blackbottle Ridge, Colorado,” he reveals, his brother taking his eyes off the road for a split second to confirm with his own eyes. 

“Sounds lovely,” you gibe, “How far?” Sam’s answer forces a heavy exhale out of you. 

“About six hundred miles,” he says as you adjust the light for him. 

“If we shag ass, we can make it by morning.” Dean seems to have already forgotten that Sam hadn’t planned on staying to look for John. You watch as Sam gives his older brother a look between somewhat shameful and apologetic. 

“Dean, um,” Sam begins, but is stopped when he sees his brother looking back at him. 

“You’re not going,” Dean confirms out loud. Sam went on to rationalize his justification for parting ways again, but your discouraged gaze on the side of his head didn’t make it any easier. 

“The interview’s in ten hours. I gotta be there,” Sam reasons, not surprised when his brother looked away from him. The flashlight you had been holding was now off as you pushed yourself as far back into the shined leather as physically possible. 

You wanted to get as far away from the reality that Sam was going to leave again. There was a microscopic piece of you that cherished the fantasy of getting the band back together. Even after all of these years, Sam fit back in like a missing puzzle piece. You felt selfish at the fact that you wanted it to stay like this; saving lives with the two people that you trusted most in the world, Dean stuffing his face with the very thing he had just heard Sam complaining about, Sam standing over your shoulder as you discussed research together; the experiences with these two men were endless and you wanted it to stay just like this. 

But it wasn’t fair to Sam. 

He had made himself a life outside of your own personal fantasy. He made relationships that you and Dean would probably never experience. He studied and worked to learn more than what John instructed, and if you were being completely honest with yourself, you were jealous of him. 

“Just take him home, Dean,” you instruct and he nods silently, following your request. 

Another agonizing thirty minutes went by before you pulled up Sam’s apartment building. Sam doesn’t even look at you as he exits, and you feel your heart drop the exact same way it did when he told you he was leaving the first time. 

Sam turns back around once he is out of the car. 

“You’ll call me if you find him?” he asks through the window and Dean nods reassuringly. 

During his next statement, Sam finally peeks back at you. 

“Maybe I can meet up with you guys later, huh?” When Sam doesn’t get an answer from you, he looks back to Dean. 

“Yeah, all right,” he approves, reminding himself to check on you after Sam leaves. Sam stands still for a moment before giving what he thought would be his final goodbye for the time being. Sam gives a tight smile and pats the car as he walks away from the car, but is stopped by Dean one last time. 

“Sam!” This catches the attention of both Sam and yourself, the former whipping around to acknowledge his brother. 

“You know, we made a hell of a team back there,” Dean declares and your eyes flick up to the somber look on Sam’s face and he gives a tiny nod. 

“Stay safe. And take care of her.”

“You know I will.”

It takes Dean a few moments to get your full attention. He pats the seat next to him once you look up at him, and you soon find yourself back in your usual seat in Baby. 

“Looks like it’s just you and me,” he smirks, not satisfied with the pitiful smile you offer him. 

“You know you still got me, right? I promise you, I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.” You almost felt yourself cower under his heavy gaze, but you pulled yourself together enough to give his hand a convincing squeeze. 

“I know, De,” is all you reply, and he gently squeezes your thigh before starting the engine and pulling away. You make an effort to not look at Sam as you are driven away, but his longing gaze on the car is not missed by you or his brother. 

It wasn’t even a full sixty seconds before a dreadful feeling filled the pit of your stomach. Something wasn’t right, but you didn’t know what. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Apparently, Dean could feel your apprehension from where he was sitting. He watches as you turn to look out the rear window of the car. 

“Turn around,” you mutter to Dean, not taking your eyes off of the building that was still getting farther and farther away. He doesn’t get the chance to ask why before you repeat the command even louder. “Turn around, Dean!” 

Everything after that moment seems to happen in the blink of an eye. 

As the car skirts back up across from Sam’s apartment, you unbluckle yourself and race up to the building. Dean follows frantically, yelling your name as you both hurry up the stairwell. Dean kicks in Sam’s front door, and you rush in before him, dashing to where you remembered his bedroom to be. Getting closer to the door, the sound of Sam’s desperate wails grow louder. You appear in the doorway only to see the room engulfed in bright flames. 

Dean calls out his brother’s name, looking up in horror as you both are met with Jess’ burning body. You freeze at the sight, but spring back into action when Dean pushes past you to yank Sam off of the bed. 

“Jess! Jess! No!”

You do your best to help Dean haul Sam out of the growing fire. The three of you barely make it out of the building before it is engulfed in screaming flames. 

* * *

At this moment, you were rattled. 

Jess' body was nowhere to be found, John was still missing, and you had just experienced a sick re-enactment of one of the most traumatic moments of your childhood. 

After twenty-two years of nightmares about Mary burning on the ceiling, the sight of Jess had shaken both you and Dean. You decide to give him space as he looks over what was now a crime scene, and move over to the younger brother. 

You don’t say anything, afraid you might start crying, as he checks over multiple rifles with a look of determination on his face. After a disheartened Dean makes his way back over to you, Sam turns to you and his brother. His eyes were glassy, the weight of losing his girlfriend becoming heavier and heavier with each passing minute. 

Sam sighs deeply, throwing the large gun in his hands into the trunk. You all stare down at it, sensing a long and burdensome journey ahead of you. 

“We got work to do.”


	2. "Wendigo"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second episode. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Warning(s): canon violence, canon death(s), slightly jealous!reader, kidnapped!reader, language, fluff, angst

When Sam startled awake for what seemed like the thousandth time, you weren’t surprised. 

The fact that Jess’s body was still nowhere to be found and all of your leads had been burnt out was taking a toll on everyone––especially Sam. He wasn’t sleeping much, and when he did, his slumber was plagued by nightmares of his recently-deceased girlfriend. The bags under his eyes were heavy, and he was respectively on edge. 

It seemed as if his brother had also become used to Sam’s sporadic awakenings, seeing as his reactions became less and less frantic. 

“You okay?” Dean asks his brother, who was still trying to blink himself into reality. 

“Yeah, fine,” is Sam’s response, but everyone in the car knew it wasn’t true. 

“Another nightmare?” The only answer you got from Sam was him clearing his throat, but you decide not to push, knowing he was still grieving. There were a few moments of silence before any of you spoke again. 

“You wanna drive for a while?” 

Both Sam and yourself snap your heads to Dean, astonished that the words had come out of his mouth. “In your whole life, you never once asked me that,” Sam scoffs, and you poke your head in between the brothers to voice your agreement. 

“He’s right. But I think you should take this opportunity. Once in a lifetime chance,” you tease the younger Winchester, but he only shakes his head. 

“Just thought you might want to. Nevermind,” Dean explains as you sit back in your seat. 

“Look, guys, you’re worried about me. I get it and thank you, but I’m perfectly okay.” Sam’s voice was convincing, but you knew him too well to believe anything he had just said. 

Dean sends his brother an unconvincing affirmation before placing his eyes back on the road. Deciding he no longer wanted to discuss his current state, Sam shifts the focus onto your next assignment. 

“All right. Where are we?” Sam asks, grabbing the map off of the dashboard to pinpoint how far you were from your destination. 

“We are just outside of Grand Junction,” Dean answers, but your focus is on Sam who is shaking his head. 

“You know what? Maybe we shouldn’t have left Stanford so soon,” he announces, and you stiffen at Dean’s next statement. 

“Sam, we dug around there for a week. We came up with nothing. If you want to find the thing that killed Jessica…” Dean trails off and you finish for him. 

“Gotta find John first.” 

Sam takes a deep breath after you state what was obvious to all of you; the only way you would find the thing that killed his girlfriend was finding their missing father and, unfortunately, that wasn’t going to be easy. 

"Dad disappearing, and this thing showing up again after twenty years? It’s no coincidence,” Dean states. “Dad will have answers. He’ll know what to do.” That you could agree with. Throughout your entire life, John was always the one person that seemed to have an answer of explanation for any and everything you asked him.

As Sam looked closer at the man, he noticed something interesting. “It’s weird guys,” he starts, and you shift back up in your seat, intrigued in what he has to say. “These coordinates he left us, this Black Water Ridge…”

“What about it?” Dean asks, once again splitting his concentration to mind both the road and the map. 

“There’s nothing there,” Sam frowned as he continued to inspect the map. “It’s just woods,” he concludes, slapping the laminated object in his lap out of frustration and bewilderment. “Why is he sending us in the middle of nowhere?”

The three of you eyeballed one another, not sure why you were being sent to this place if there was nothing there. Hopefully, John Winchester would be there to explain himself.

* * *

“So Black Water Ridge is pretty remote. It’s cut off by these canyons here,” you present to both of the brothers, advancing toward the model of the forest in front of you. “Rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place–” 

While Sam was listening intently (so close behind you that you would feel him pressed up against your side), Dean’s attention was on something else. 

“Guys, check out the size of this friggin’ bear,” he exclaims, not taking his eyes off of the picture that hung in front of him. Moving over to him, you come face to face with the image of an enormous brown bear. It’s position led you to believe it had been shot dead, and you finish your earlier statement in a worried tone now that you have seen how big they actually are. 

“–and a dozen or more grizzlies in the area. It’s no nature hike, that’s for sure.” 

As all of you linger on the image, a voice interrupts you. 

“You guys aren’t planning to go out near Black Water Ridge by any chance?” You are met with the sight of a ranger skeptically staring back at you. 

“Oh, no, sir,” Sam answers for the three of you, “we’re environmental-study majors from U.C. Boulder.” You silently applaud Sam on how flawlessly the lie pours out of his mouth, and you are relieved you won’t have to pose as an authority figure anytime soon. 

With a small smile, you add in, “Just working on a paper,” for emphasis. You can’t help but slightly cringe when Dean blurts out his contribution to the lie. 

“Recycle, man,” he boasts, and your heart speeds up just a tick as the ranger calls your bluff. 

“Bull,” he argues, and you swallow uncomfortably hard. Apparently, the lie wasn’t as flawless as you thought. 

“You’re friends with that Haley girl, right?” the ranger asks, pointing to you all with his coffee mug, and you find the ability to breathe again. Dean tilts his head for a moment, figuring that the best thing to do was go along with it. 

“Yes. Yes, we are, Ranger–” Dean pauses to read the man’s name, “–Wilkinson.” 

If at first, you don’t succeed, try, and try again. 

Ranger Wilkinson shakes his head, barely laughing as you move toward the desk he was now hovering over. 

“Well, I will tell you exactly what I told her. Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn’t be back from Black Water until the 24th,” he tells you and you nod understandingly. “So it’s not exactly missing people now, is it?” 

Dean gives Wilkinson a nod of the head, but you know he doesn’t agree with him in the slightest. Yes, there was a chance it was just a misunderstanding, but probably not. 

John wouldn't send you here for nothing. 

“Tell that girl to quit worrying,” he commands, “I’m sure her brother’s just fine.” The ranger finishes his statement to you, seemingly fed up with discussing the matter at hand. 

“We will,” you promise, but Dean felt the need to keep pushing for more information. 

“Well, that Hailey girl’s quite a pistol, huh?” Ranger Wilkinson nods assertively at his question. 

“Actually, you know what would help is if we could show her a copy of that backcountry permit. You know, so she could see her brother’s return date,” Dean reasons, hoping it would be good enough for him to snag a copy for himself.

The ranger contemplates for a few seconds and you bite your lip in anticipation. By the grace of God himself, you are walking out of the station with a fresh copy of the backcountry permit in Dean’s possession. 

The chuckle from Dean as he looks over the permit seems to rub his brother the wrong way. 

“What, are you cruising for a hookup or something?” he says almost bitterly, and the thought of Dean hooking up with someone dampens your already dim spirits. 

“What do you mean?” Dean asks as he looks past you towards Sam, confused by his attitude. 

“The coordinates point to Black Water Ridge. So what are we waiting for? Let’s just go find Dad,” Sam emphasizes. “I mean, why even talk to this girl?”

You could understand Sam’s frustration at the moment. Like you all stated before, the faster you found John, the faster you would be able to find the monster that killed Jess. 

“I don’t know, maybe we should know what we’re walking into before we actually walk into it,” Dean suggests, and you sigh, knowing that both of the brothers had a point. 

“What?” Sam questions, the clueless look on his brother’s face becoming more irritant by the second. 

“Since when are you all ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ anyway?” 

Sam’s face hardens for the thousandth time in the past week, and you already knew the answer. 

“Since now,” is all Sam says before opening the passenger door and sliding into the car. Dean gives you a stunned look at his brother’s response as he lowered himself into Baby. 

“Oh, really?” 

While you were understanding of Sam’s tenacity, you could only hope that it wouldn’t lead to him doing anything reckless. That was the last thing you needed.

* * *

The amount of time between Dean knocking and Haley swinging the door open was almost non-existent. 

As Haley steps into the light, her distinct sea blue eyes pierce through you in wonder. “You must be Haley Collins. I’m Dean, this is (Y/n) and Sam.” At your introduction, you give her a small wave as a greeting. “We’re rangers with the park service. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over. We wanted to ask you some questions about your brother Tommy.” 

Her eyes run over you for a moment before she asks for your identification. 

“Let me see some I.D,” she demands understandably. You could already tell before she opened her mouth that she wasn’t just some naive young woman, judgment clouded by her concern of her brother. 

“There you go.” Dean abides by her request, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his unknowingly fake I.D. She scans it for a moment, looking for any signs that it was false. Luckily for you, your attentive and skilled work on the badge fooled the young woman. Her eyes fall back on the three of you and she convinces herself that you are telling the truth. 

“Come on in,” she invites, opening the screen door. Door wide open, she gets a glimpse of the shining coat of black paint gracing Baby. “That yours?” She asks Dean, and you can feel the pride radiating off of him. 

“Yeah,” he smiles, and you grit your teeth together in frustration. 

“Nice car,” she compliments before turning to go back inside the house. As you step in, Dean turns to you and Sam, awestruck at the woman who seemed to be swinging her hips a little harder knowing that Dean was behind her. He mouths an exclamation, causing Sam to roll his eyes. You give him a tight-lipped smile to hide the burning feeling in your stomach that always arises when his attention is grabbed by an enticing woman. 

You walk through the house and into what looked to be the dining room, interests peaking when you saw another figure sitting at the table. You take your place next to Sam, eyes moving towards the younger boy who seemed intrigued by the metal fork he was twirling in his hand. 

“Give me a second,” Haley ordered, progressing to the kitchen and leaving you alone with the mysterious boy. You wander aimlessly around the table, purposefully getting into the eye line of the boy. 

“Hi,” you address him delicately, sensing that he was somewhat uncomfortable. He glances up at you, managing the smallest smile before going back to twirling the utensil in his hand. Seeing Haley re-enter the room with a pot and bowl in each of her hands, Sam asks his first question.

“So, if Tommy’s not due back for a while, how do you know something’s wrong?”

“He checks in every day by cell,” she announces, setting the items in her hand onto the table. “He e-mails photos, stupid little videos. But we haven’t heard anything in over three days now.” You could sense her distress just by the look on her face as she turned to Sam.

“Well, maybe he can’t get cell reception.” It was a good theory and a reassuring reason as to why Tommy had not made contact with his sister. But you felt that John wouldn’t send you on a hunt if the only problem was Tommy not getting a signal. 

“He’s got a satellite phone, too,” Haley adds in, shaking her head before walking back into the kitchen. 

“Could it be he’s just having fun and forgot to check-in?” Dean proposes, which catches the attention of the young man at the table. 

“He wouldn’t do that,” he snaps, before going back to the food in front of him. Your eyes soften in sympathy at his cheerless demeanor as Haley comes back with more food. 

“Our parents are gone. It’s just my two brothers and me,” She explains, looking to the boy who she revealed was her younger brother. “We all keep pretty close tabs on each other.” You smile at this fact, almost seeing yourself in her. 

Haley seemed capable and strong, with a good head on her shoulders. Her love for her brothers was something that considerably reflected your relationship with the Winchesters. Sure you weren’t blood, but they were all you had. 

They were family. 

“Can I see the pictures he sent you?” You ask her, hoping they would lead to more answers. 

“Yeah,” she nods, moving to grab her computer. You all watch as she opens a folder and a video of a smiling Tommy pops up. He looked happy and content, not possibly imagining what was to happen to him next. Haley clicks a few more times until a new video of Tommy comes into view on the screen. 

“This is his last message.” She clicks the play button, and the sound of Tommy’s voice fills the room. 

“Hey, Haley. Day six. We’re still out near Black Water Ridge.” Haley tips a small smile to her brother on the screen and you feel even more sorry for her after seeing it quickly fall. “We’re fine, keeping safe, so don’t worry, okay? Talk to you tomorrow.” The video is ended by another click on the computer. 

“We’ll find your brother,” Dean reassures her. “We’re heading out to Black Water Ridge first thing.” 

“Then maybe I’ll see you there,” Haley reveals, and you hold back your smile as Dean’s eyes widen. You make eye contact with both of the brothers in subtle concern as she moves behind where her younger brother was seated. 

“Look, I can’t sit around anymore, so I hired a guide. I’m heading out in the morning, and I’m gonna find Tommy myself.” You look to Haley after she speaks with an unreadable expression on your face. 

“I think I know how you feel,” you verbalize your understanding of her situation, and both of the brothers knew you were talking about John. 

“Hey, you mind forwarding these to me?” Sam questions, wanting to get a closer look at all of the videos that Tommy sent his sister. Maybe one of them would have a clue as to what had actually happened to him.

* * *

The bar you were in was filled with patrons who were too busy drinking and hustling each other during pool to notice what you all were discussing. You had all found a small booth in the back corner, ready to decipher the videos Haley sent. You were comfortably squished in the middle of the brothers, arms brushing up against both of them whenever you moved. 

“So, Black Water Ridge doesn’t get a lot of traffic––local campers mostly––but still, this past April, two hikers went missing out there. They were never found,” Sam discloses, opening his notebook up to his notes that he had taken earlier. 

Dean sits up as he speaks, resting his arm on the back of the booth. He lets it graze your back and you ignore the butterflies that rise in your stomach. 

“Any before that?” He asks, and Sam nods his head, handing you a copy of a newspaper with the headline  _ Grizzly Bear Attacks _ . “Yeah. In 1982, eight different people all vanished in the same year. Authorities said it was a grizzly attack. And, again, in 1959, and again, before that in 1936.”

Sam pulls out his laptop as you shuffle through the papers in your hand. As he said, the authorities in the area summed the attacks up to angry, feral grizzly bears. But the fact that the amount of time in between each attack was the same told you differently. 

“Every 23 years, just like clockwork,” you solve after doing the math in your head. Sam nods while Dean looks at the newspaper with you. 

“Okay, watch this,” Sam mutters, fiddling with the computer. “Here’s the clincher.”

You and Dean turn your attention to the video of Tommy. “I downloaded that guy Tommy’s video to the laptop. Check this out.” Sam plays the video for one second before stopping it. Something in the back catches your eyes, and you furrow your eyebrows. 

“Do it again,” you request, trying to figure out if what you saw was real or just you. Sam clicks around on his computer, the video cut into frames. He clicks three times, and you and Dean divert your attention to the shadow that was behind an unsuspecting Tommy. 

“That’s three frames. It’s a fraction of a second,” Sam eyes you and Dean for a reaction. “Whatever that thing is, it can move.” At this revelation, Dean reaches in front of you to hit his brother on the arm. 

“I told you there was something weird going on!” Sam nods his head, more focused on what he had yet to show you. 

“Yeah. I got one more thing.”

He slams his computer shut and turns towards you, knee brushing up against yours. “In ‘59, one camper survived the supposed grizzly attack, just a kid––barely crawled out of the woods alive.” 

You now have the sudden urge to speak with the lone survivors of the previous attack. If this man had remembered anything from back then, it would get you one step closer to finding Tommy and John. 

Or so you hoped. 

“Look, ranger, I don’t know why you’re asking me about this,” the man whose name you learned was Shaw grunted out, a fresh cigarette hanging between his lips. 

Your eyes brush over the entity of his apartment, trying not to scrunch up your nose when the heavy smell of smoke and booze fills your lungs. Dean guides you through the door behind Sam before shutting the door after him. 

“It’s public record. I was a kid. My parents got mauled by a–”

“Grizzly?” Sam interrupted, “That’s what attacked them?”

Shaw still has his back to you all, but you can tell that he doesn’t believe a grizzly bear was the reason for the nightmares that still haunt him to this very day. He takes another long drag of his cigarette and gives an unconvincing nod to Sam’s question. 

“The other people that went missing that year––those bear attacks, too?” You watch as Shaw recludes from the question once again, barely meeting Dean’s eye line. While he was saying one thing, his body language said another. His posture was closed off, telling that he obviously did not want to discuss what he really experienced that night. 

“What about all the people that went missing this year? Same thing?” Dean questions him again, also believing that he knew more than he let on. 

“If we knew what we were dealing with, we might be able to stop it,” you offer, tone a little softer than Dean’s to try and make him feel less intimidated. 

Shaw is staring straight at you now. “I seriously doubt that,” he objects, cigarette now hanging loosely in his fingers. “Anyways, I don’t see what difference it would make. You wouldn’t believe me. Nobody ever did.” 

As Shaw sits back in an old recliner, an exhausted look crosses his face. Your face softens as you approach and sit across from him. 

“Mr. Shaw,” you pause to look at him with all of the sympathy in the world, “what did you see?”

He sighs before breathing out his answer but surprised you when he kept going. 

“Nothing. It moved too fast to see. It hid too well. I heard it, though. A roar...” he trails off trying to figure out a way to describe what he heard. “...like no man or animal I ever heard.”

“It came at night?” Sam asks behind you and Shaw nods. “Got inside your tent?”

A look of terror crosses over Shaw’s face as he recalls the incident. “It got inside our  _ cabin _ ,” he emphasizes, almost still not believing it himself. “I was sleeping in front of the fireplace when it came in. It didn’t smash a window or break the door. It unlocked it.” 

Your eyebrows furrow at this information. 

“Do you know of a bear that could do something like that? I didn’t even wake up until I heard my parents screaming,” Shaw admits, eyes glazing over at the memory. 

“It killed them?”

“Dragged them off into the night,” Shaw answers and you glance back at both of the brothers. 

“Why it left me alive,” Shaw shakes his head, “I’ve been asking myself that ever since.” The room is quiet and with the information just revealed, the atmosphere somewhat distressing. Shaw looks down at his collar before pulling it to the side.

“I did leave me this though.”

You shift uncomfortably, coming to terms with the fact you were hunting a being that left a scar that massive. Shaw lets you all study it before letting go of his shirt. 

“There’s something evil in those woods. It was some sort of a demon.”

While you agree with his first statement, you can’t help but think this was something else.

* * *

As soon as the door is closed, you speak your mind to the brothers. 

“Spirits and demons don’t have to unlock doors if they want inside. They just go through the walls,” you tell them, and Dean nods his head in agreement. 

“So it’s probably something else––something corporeal,” Sam adds and Dean cocks his head at the vocabulary word he apparently missed during his school days. 

“‘Corporeal’? Excuse me, Professor.” Dean’s mock causes you to snicker before clarifying for him. 

“It means having, consisting, or relating to a physical body. In other words: having a body,” you mutter, not catching the impressed look from both of the brothers at your recitation. 

“So, what do you think?”

“The claws, the speed that it moves––it could be a skinwalker, maybe a black dog. Whatever we’re talking about, we’re talking about a creature and it’s  _ corporeal _ ,” Dean pauses as you both smile at his choice of words, “which means we can kill it.” 

Exiting the apartment complex, you can’t help the uneasy feeling that blossoms in your stomach. 

It was now completely dark and knowing what this town had crawling around in it, you took no pleasure in being outside. You quickly follow after Dean, wanting to get inside as soon as possible.

Crouching over Baby’s trunk, you help the older Winchester stuff what was needed into an army green duffel bag, Sam at your other side doing the same. 

“We cannot let that Haley girl go out there.” 

Part of you agreed with Sam. It was dangerous for someone who didn’t know what they were doing to be out in the woods; they didn’t know what to look for, what to listen to, and the last thing you needed when dealing with this creature was a distraction. 

But on the other hand, if Sam or Dean were to go missing the last thing you would do is sit around and wait for someone else to find them. 

“What are we gonna tell her––she can’t go into the woods because of a big, scary monster?” Dean asks sarcastically, but Sam’s answer was completely genuine. 

“Yeah,” he emphasizes, causing you to look up at him. 

“Her brother’s missing, Sam. She’s not just gonna sit this out. No, we go with her, we protect her and we keep our eyes peeled for our oversized Cujo, alright?” you tell both the brothers, 

Sam doesn’t seem pleased with your answer, turning to you and saying, “So finding Dad’s not enough?” You step back as he slams the trunk shut in anger. “Now we gotta babysit, too?” 

You watch the taller Winchester with guarded eyes, not understanding why he was taking his frustration out on you and his brother. 

“What?” he grumbles, and you feel a ball of acrimony bubble up inside of you at his sour attitude. 

“Nothing,” you spit out, forcefully throwing the duffel bag into his stomach before stomping off to get inside Baby. Dean gives Sam an exasperated look for getting you into a bad mood, and Sam stares back at him, face still hardened.

* * *

As you pulled up the entrance of the woods, the first thing you saw was Haley. She had her hands on her hips and was shaking her head, kicking herself for almost believing that you all wouldn’t show up. 

You exit the car, making an effort to not look at Sam who is trying to silently get your attention for the hundredth time. You were still pissed at him about yesterday and the way Haley was looking at Dean was not helping your mood. 

“You guys got room for three more?” He asks Haley while shutting your door. 

“Wait, you want to come with us?” None of you get to answer the question before another voice steps in. 

“Who are these guys?” Your eyes fall on the older man behind Haley, wondering the same thing about him. 

“Apparently, this is all the park service could muster up,” Haley retorts, hands back on her hips. Sam walks past you, eager to get into the woods and find the monster. You stand back with Dean as the man continues to question you. 

“You’re rangers?”

“That’s right,” you nod, shifting the duffle bag that rested on your shoulder. Haley looks rather unimpressed and you can’t be mad at her for being skeptical. 

“And you’re hiking in biker boots and jeans?” 

Dean looks at you before looking back to Haley. “Well, sweetheart, I don’t do shorts,” he tells her, beginning his walk to the entrance. You freeze in your place when the word “sweetheart” comes out of his mouth, and you have to remind yourself that it wasn’t exclusive to you. 

Snapping yourself out of your disappointment, you walk up next to Haley, who is now smiling at Dean. 

“Oh, you think this is funny? It’s dangerous backcountry out there. Her brother might be hurt,” the man speaks again, and you intrude with a cordial response. 

“Believe me,” you breathe out, walking toward the man, “we know how dangerous it can be. We just want to help them find their brother. That’s all.” With that, you turn away from him, finding Tommy alive the only thing on your mind.

* * *

After around 25 minutes of walking, you have all formed a line behind Roy. You had a spot behind Ben and in front of Sam, who was acting as the caboose. You haven’t said a word, focusing on your surroundings and keeping an eye out for the monster you were looking for. 

“Roy, you said you did a little hunting,” Dean quips, knowing that his type of hunting and Roy’s type of hunting were two very different things. 

“Yeah,” Roy answers. “More than a little,” he boasts, not bothering to explain any further. You stop listening to the men in the front, feeling Sam’s eyes on you again. 

“Something wrong?” You question, stepping over a large vine. Sam steadies you with a hand on your shoulder, making sure you don’t fall over. “Thanks,” you mutter as he steps over it with ease. 

“No problem,” he replies in a shaky voice. “Listen, I wanted to apologize for last night. You didn’t deserve the attitude I was giving you, I’ve just been worked up.” 

You glance up at him, seeing the sincerity on his face. 

“We’re all worked up, Sam. Dean and I want to find John just as much as you do. Not only to see him in one piece but to finally find the thing that killed Jess.” With how you started, it sounded like Sam was automatically off the hook. 

But he knew you better than that. He knew you wouldn’t let him go that easily, especially since both of you knew he had no reason to be upset with you. 

“You need to remember that your brother and I aren’t your enemies. Whatever killed your girlfriend is. I know you're still grieving and angry, but you don’t need to take it out on us, alright?” 

Sam chokes out a quick yes, feeling worse about snapping at you he did than before. You feel better after letting it all out, but sigh when you see the small frown that Sam was sporting.

Damn him and his puppy-dog face. 

“I’m sure John sent us here for a reason, Sammy. Don’t worry,” you console, giving him a small smile. For the first time since Jess died, Sam forgot about the anxiety that was building up at his chest. Your smile calmed him and reminded him of when he was younger. Before he knew about all the monster and evil things that crawled around in the dark. 

Sam’s short moment of sereness was destroyed when Roy grabbed Dean and yanked him back. Everyone watched with wide eyes, assuming Roy was tired of putting up with Dean’s arrogance. 

“What are you doing, Roy?” Dean asked carefully, not sure if Roy was about to gift him with a nice shiner. Roy says nothing as he picks up a long stick and shoves it towards the ground. Haley and her brother flinch as a bear trap snaps closed and you don’t want to imagine what it would have done to Dean’s foot. 

“You should watch where you’re stepping…  _ Ranger _ ,” Roy mocks with a smug smile, walking off deeper into the forest. 

Dean sucks his teeth before gesturing to the sharp metal. “It’s a bear trap,” he laughs, brushing off how close he was to injuring himself. Dean eyeballs your unimpressed glare before getting back into stride with Roy. You all follow, keeping a closer eye on the ground underneath you. 

After a few more minutes of walking, Haley rushes up behind Dean. 

“You didn’t pack any provisions,” she identifies, concerned that you didn’t know what you were doing. “You guys are carrying a duffel bag. You’re not rangers, so who the hell are you?” Her accusation causes Dean to look to you and Sam. You give him a reassuring nod, agreeing that he will take the task of telling Haley the truth. 

Glancing back at the two, you watch Dean speak to Haley as she looks at him with innocent wide eyes. It was no question to you that she was attracted to Dean, however, you couldn’t blame her. 

Who wasn’t attracted to him?

His forward, but charming demeanor had dragged your feelings for him to the surface a long time ago. You were sure he was clueless to the fact, given that he had the tendency to flirt with almost anyone that looked at him the right way. Your hidden feelings had gone unanswered, and you were okay with that. As long as he was in your life and happy with who he spent his time with, it would be enough for you.

So why was there still a nagging ache in your chest as you turned to leave them alone together? 

You had come to terms with the fact that Dean only saw you as a close friend, practically his sister. His warm smiles and unconscious touches would always be platonic, and while it still stung every once in a while, you taught yourself to be okay with that. 

Or at least you thought you did––but the crushing feeling that exploded inside of you whenever you saw Haley smile at Dean told you differently.

* * *

“This is it––Black Water Ridge,” Roy announces to the group. You were happy to stop walking, tired of the light aching of your feet due to the consistent walking. 

“What coordinates are we at?” Sam asks Roy, who then pulls out his tracker.

“35 and minus 111.” Hearing that the coordinates match the ones that John gave Dean, you move up towards the brothers and search for any sign that John had been here. You don’t see much as you look around, but the sound––or lack thereof––is more alarming to you than anything. 

“You hear that?” You question, wondering if Sam and Dean had noticed it as well. There were no birds chirping, no small critters scuffling, no buzzing insects––nothing. 

“Yeah,” Sam nods. “Not even crickets.” 

Roy puts his tracker back in his pocket, a determined look on his face. “I’m gonna go take a look around.” Everyone turns to him, sensing it wasn’t a good idea to wander around out here alone. 

“You shouldn’t go off by yourself,” Sam suggests to him, but it’s obvious Roy didn’t take him seriously. 

“That’s sweet,” Roy laughs softly at the younger man. “Don’t worry about me,” he tells you all, before disappearing into the trees with a shotgun in his hands. You have to urge to stop him, but knowing he won’t listen to you, you leave it alone for the moment. 

“All right, everybody stays together,” Dean asserts to the rest of the group, “let’s go.” You follow right behind Dean, wanting to keep a steady eye on Roy in case his ego causes him any trouble. Everyone walked in silence, straining their ears to listen for anyone or anything. 

After a few minutes, Roy’s shout startled Haley into a sprint as he called her name. 

“Haley! Over here!” You all quickly follow her, stopping in your tracks when you come across what you assumed was Tommy’s campsite. The tents looked to be ripped open and most of their equipment was damaged. What really worried you was the bloodstains spread around the area. 

“Looks like a Grizzly,” Roy points out and you have to stop yourself from correcting him. Upon further inspection, Haley swallows hard, eyes focused on the splattered blood on different sides of the tents, and she can’t help but call out for her brother. 

“Tommy?” She calls out, dropping her backpack on the ground. “Tommy! Tommy!” Her voice progressively gets louder and Sam rushes to quiet her. “Why?” Haley asks, not understanding why you all weren’t shouting his name. 

“Something might still be out there,” you inform her, looking out into the trees. Looking for Dean, you become alarmed when you realize he is no longer standing behind you. Luckily, the sound of him calling you and Sam over quickly answers the question of where went. Dropping your bag, you suck in a deep breath of relief as he comes into view. 

He was crouched down, analyzing something on the ground. Both you and Sam crouch down next to him, eyeing the tracks he was inspecting. 

“The bodies were dragged from the campsite,” he identifies, pointing to the tussled dirt on the ground. “But here, they just vanish.” Your eyebrows pinch together as you look towards the brothers. 

“That’s weird,” you mutter, standing up. 

“I’ll tell you what: it’s not a Skinwalker or Black Dog,” Dean concludes, looking back down at the tracks, before walking off to join the group again. You follow him, head snapping in all directions. 

Now that you were in Black Water Ridge, anything could happen. As you travel back over to everyone, you see Haley looking at a bloody, broken phone with tears in her eyes. You slowly advance toward her and crouch down once again. 

“Hey,” you console in a soft voice, “he could still be alive.” She peers over at you and the reassuring look gracing your face comforts her. 

Unfortunately, that comfort only lasts a few seconds. An agonizing cry for help echoes in the quiet forest, disturbing everyone. 

“Please! Somebody help me!” 

Roy takes off running first hand you all follow, eager to see who was out there. Running towards the screams, you expect to see an injured, but alive Tommy. Coming to a clearing of trees, you are awfully mistaken when it appears that Tommy is nowhere to be seen. You know you heard someone screaming––you all heard it. 

“It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn’t it?” Haley asked you all but no one said anything. The wind was blowing now, and the shaking leaves of the trees made it hard to see if anything was out there. 

The atmosphere turned unsettling when Sam finally spoke. 

“Everybody back to camp,” he commanded, backing up slowly. You all retreat and rush back to the trashed campsite, only to find you everyone’s bags gone. 

“Our packs!” Haley exclaims and you rub your hands over your face in frustration and kick yourself for not keeping your gun on you. Now it was missing, and you weren’t sure you were going to see it again anytime soon. All you had now was a switchblade sitting in one of the pockets of your cargo pants. 

“So much for my GPS and my satellite phone,” Roy grumbles, cradling all he had left, which was his shotgun. 

“What the hell’s going on?” Haley exclaims, looking to you and the brothers. Sam answers her question. 

“It’s smart. It wants to cut us off so we can’t call for help,” Sam deciphers aloud, but Roy now thinks it’s just some sick human being playing their own sick version of hide and seek with you.

“You mean someone. Some nut job out there just stole all our stuff just stole all our gear,” he tried to correct, but Sam wasn’t listening. Instead, he was busy marching his way over to you and Dean. 

“I need to speak with you two… in private,” he requests in a hushed tone. The three of you move far enough away from the others to not be heard or seen. You stop and turn to him, waiting to hear what he had to say. 

“Okay, let me see Dad’s journal.”

Dean pulls it out of his jacket, and you watch as Sam flips through it quickly. He quickly finds the page he was looking for, turning it so you and Dean could see. 

“Check that out,” he tells you and the first word you see scribbled on the page is  _ Wendigo.  _

“I thought Wendigos were only in the Minnesota woods or Northern Michigan? I’ve never heard of one this far west.” Deep down, you were hoping you were right. A Wendigo was the last thing you wanted to be stuck in the middle of the forest with. 

“Think about it, guys––the claws, the way it can mimic a human voice,” Sam runs through everything you know about the creature and it matches up with everything that has happened so far. 

“Great,” Dean gripes, before holding up his gun. “Well, then this is useless.” Now you don’t know if you should feel better or worse about not having your gun. Sam gives the journal back to his brother and begins to walk off. You can tell he’s still worked up about the hunt, and figuring out you were after a Wendigo wasn’t helping the situation. 

Sam begins to walk away, but he quickly turns back with a serious look on his face. “We need to get these people to safety,” he articulates before proceeding back. 

“All right, listen up. It’s time to go. Things have gotten complicated.” Haley and Ben give Sam a look of uncertainty. 

“What?” Haley asks, wanting to know what caused Sam’s sudden change of heart. 

“Whatever’s out there, kid, I think I can handle it.” At first, Roy’s stance was understandable, given that all he had to go on were missing campers and had no idea that a Wendigo even existed. But now, it was becoming annoying. 

“If you shoot this thing, you’re just gonna make it mad. We have to leave now,” you warn. Even if you didn’t like the guy, he didn’t deserve to die. Also, you kind of owed him for saving Dean’s foot earlier. 

“One, you’re talking nonsense, two, you’re in no position to give anybody orders,” Roy spits out at you, and you were starting to think him coming along was a bad thing. 

“Relax,” Dean says, not appreciating how he was talking to you. Sam obviously did not appreciate it either, his frustration with Roy beginning to bubble over. 

“We never should have let you come out in the first place. I’m trying to protect you,” Sam reasons, but his statement seems to offend Roy. 

“ _ You _ protect me?” Roy all but snarls out. “I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you good night!” Roy and Sam are in each other’s faces now and you prepare yourself to step in when necessary. 

“It’s a damn-near-perfect hunter. It’s smarter than you,” Sam taunts, smiling at the irritated look on the older man’s face. “And it’s gonna hunt you down and eat you alive unless we get your stupid sorry ass out of here.” 

Roy lets out a deranged laugh. “You know you’re crazy right?”

“Yeah? You every hunt a Wen-”

Sam doesn’t get to finish his sentence thanks to Dean roughly shoving him back. Haley scolds Roy as you rush over to Sam. 

“Chill out,” Dean demands, pointing a figure at his brother. Tensions are starting to run high, giving the Wendigo a better chance at getting the drop on you all. 

“Stop it. Everybody just stop,” Haley pleads as she holds Roy back. You silently thank the fact that there is another woman there to level out the testosterone––a wise and sensible one at that. 

“She's right. Tommy might still be alive and fighting each other isn’t gonna help us find him,” you add, and Haley sends you an appreciative smile.

“I’m not leaving here without him,” she challenges, looking at Sam who turns away from her. 

Dean gives you a questionable look and you nod your head, believing that Haley and her brother had a right to be out here. 

“It’s getting late,” he says, eyes lingering on you. He then turns to the rest of the group. “This thing is a good hunter in the day, but an unbelievable hunter at night. We’ll never beat it––not in the dark.”

As Dean was giving orders, Sam’s face was one of aggravation. He was constantly shifting around, and not seeming to listen to what his brother was saying. 

“We need to settle in and protect ourselves,” Dean finishes, walking past Haley. She turns to Dean, still jolted by the turn of events. 

“How,” she asks shakily, and you realize she was looking to Dean for some kind of comfort. He glances towards you quickly, but immediately averts his eyes when he saw you were looking. He clears his throat, throwing a quick smile to her before telling her, “We’ll figure something out.”

Wanting to distract yourself from any further interaction they had together, you turn your attention to collecting some sticks to burn for a fire you were certain you would need when night fell. Hopefully, that would get your mind off of that nagging feeling that erupted in your chest again.

* * *

The small fire you had set up and the moon were the only sources of light you had available and while it wasn’t the most comforting feeling, it was something. 

“One more time? That’s..." Haley trails off and you inform her of what you were drawing in the dirt. 

“Anasazi symbols. It’s for protection. The Wendigo can’t cross over them.” After the symbols were finished, you felt a little better knowing that you had at least one mechanism of defense against it. 

Roy’s laughter bubbles out of his chest, as he is genuinely amused at how serious you were taking what he saw as some little scribbles in the dirt. 

“Nobody likes a skeptic, Roy,” Dean’s sarcastic tone told you he was just as tired with Roy’s attitude as you were. Standing up, you roll your eyes and move to Sam, needing to get away from the older man. You sit down next to him and Dean follows suit, wanting to discuss Sam's aggravation. 

“You want to tell us what’s going on in that freaky head of yours?” 

Personally, you would have asked in a different manner, but it was obvious Dean was trying to lighten the mood. 

“Guys…” Sam begins and you already know what he’s going to say. 

“No, you’re not fine,” you interrupt, knowing him too well. “You’re really on edge. And not just because we're out here hunting. It's not like you. Dean’s supposed to be the belligerent one, remember?” 

Although Dean chuckled at your comment, Sam’s face stays stone cold. He looks just as he did the night he snapped at you. 

“Dad’s not here,” he says, solemnly. “I mean, that much we know for sure, right? He would’ve left us a message, a sign, right?” Your mood dampens as Sam brings up the one thing you were trying to forget. Your gut told you probably wouldn’t be meeting up with John during this hunt, which was something you were looking forward to. 

While he could be a hard ass most of the time, you still loved him like a father. Hell, he pretty much was your father. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how the brothers were feeling about John not being here. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Dean’s tone is dejected now as well. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think Dad’s ever been to Lost Creek.” He lightly hits his knee against yours, his own way of comforting you at the moment. 

“Then let’s get these people back to town, and let’s hit the road. Go find Dad,” Sam offers, and you shake your head in disagreement, not liking how selfish his plan sounded. “I mean why are we still even here?!” Sam throws the stick he was playing down in frustration and sighs. You could tell that this time he wasn’t directing his anger towards you or Dean, and you appreciated it. 

You grasp his hand gently, stoking your thumb across the warm skin on the back of his hand. He lets out a long breath, and instead of shaking you off like you thought he would, he sends you a thankful gaze. 

Dean gets up and pulls out John’s journal. He squats in front of Sam with his hand placed on the top of the book. He slaps it a few times to get Sam’s full attention. 

“This is why. This book. This is Dad’s single most valuable possession. Everything he knows about every evil thing is in here, and he’s passed it to us.” 

Dean is looking at both of you know. “I think he wants us to pick up where he left off––you know, saving people, hunting things,” he says passionately, looking as if he really believed with his whole heart that this is what you three were meant to do. “The family business.” 

Sam wanted to agree with what Dean was saying. He swears he did. 

But Jess was dead. 

His old life at Stanford as he knew it was over, whether he went back or not. He would never be able to escape the sympathetic looks of his fellow classmates as he walked through campus. He would never be able to escape the nightmares of her burning on the ceiling or the rage that came after the crying stopped. 

Not until he found what killed her, and he couldn’t do that without his father. 

“W-why doesn’t he just call us? Why doesn’t he tell us what he wants, tell us where he is?” Sam questions, looking at his older brother from the answer, which was something he had been doing all his life. Usually either you or Dean always had an answer, but right now, you had no idea what to tell him. 

“I don’t know,” Dean whispers, and you try to rack your brain for an answer that would help him, but you were coming up blank. 

“But the way I see it, Dad’s given us a job to do, and I intend to do it,” Dean asserts and Sam shakes his head. 

You would be lying if you said you didn’t somewhat feel how Dean was. You learned long ago that if John told you to do something, you do it. No questions, no concerns, no nothing. You get the job done and live through it to finish the next one the day after. 

But the broken look in Sam’s eye had you worried that you would be convinced to do something else. 

“Dean… no,” Sam choked out with tears in his eyes. “I gotta find Dad. I gotta find Jessica’s killer,” Sam stops, trying to keep the tears that threatened to pour over inside of him. He didn’t have any left after the past week, but apparently, he was wrong. “It’s the only thing I can think about.”

“Okay, all right,” you encourage him, taking his hands into yours. “Sammy, we’ll find them. We promise.” You squeeze his hands tighter after you feel them shaking. 

“Listen to me. You’ve gotta prepare yourself,” Dean instructs, trying to keep his hard facade to mask the heartbreak he was feeling for his brother. “I mean, this search could take a while. And all that anger,” Dean lightly hit his brother's shoulder, “you can’t keep it burning over the long haul. It’s gonna kill you. You got to have patience, man.”

Sam pushed out a pathetic chuckle as he asked the questions, “How do you two do it? How does Dad do it?” As far as John, you had no idea. That man had been through it all, and he still found a way to power forward. 

“Well for one, them,” Dean tells him, nodding over to Haley who was clasping Ben’s hands in her own. Haley was talking quietly to her brother, no doubt she was telling him that everything was going to be alright. “I mean, I figure our family’s so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others. It makes things a little bit more bearable.”

“You know what else helps?” You ask, and both of the brothers look back at you, awaiting the answer. “Killing as many evil sons of bitches as we possibly can.” Sam and Dean laugh at the smirk that plays on your lips, and Sam takes note of how much his brother has rubbed off on you since he’s been gone. 

And that wasn't only one of the things he noticed had changed about you. 

Sam didn’t have much time to identify the number of ways you had changed, a distant call for help echoing in the forest once again. Dashing back to Ben and Haley, Sam grabs the flashlight that he found in the campsite and turns it on. 

Everyone looks out into the trees but no one moves knowing it wasn’t really a person calling out for help. Dean cocks his gun and you reach for the switchblade in your pocket. 

“Help!” the voice cries out again, sounding closer than it did before. 

“It’s trying to draw us out. Just stay cool. Stay put,” Dean orders, prompting another comment from the ever so lovely Roy. 

“Inside the magic circle?” he jeers, but you all ignore him, focused on the continuous calls for help. Suddenly, the cries morph into chilling growls, and Roy’s doubtful facade drops. 

“Okay, that’s no grizzly,” he points out with his gun drawn as his face pales.    


“It’s okay,” Haley vows to her brother, shrinking down in the middle of the circle Dean, Sam, Roy, and yourself have formed. “We’ll be alright, I promise.” 

You hoped that her words would prove to be true as the growling intensifies. It’s moving too fast for you to keep a light or gun on it, taking pleasure in the fear growing on your face. Much to your dismay, Roy fires his gun once, provoking the Wendigo even more. He shoots again and a yelping sound convinces Roy that he’s succeeded in shooting it. 

“I hit it!” he exclaims, running into the darkness. Dean shouts for Roy to stop, but his adrenaline is pumping too high for him to hear Dean yelling his name. 

“Roy!” Dean shouts once again, but now Roy is out of sight. 

“Don’t move, stay with them,” he commands loudly at you before motioning for Sam to join him in his search for Roy. They speed off on foot, leaving Haley, Ben, and yourself by the fire. You position your body in front of theirs, ready to try and fend off anything that tried to harm them. 

The only sounds around you are heavy breathing and the rattling of leaves as they shake in the wind. You turn to check on the two people behind you, and the frightened faces of Haley and Ben are the last thing you see before everything goes dark.

* * *

After the screams of Haley and Ben prompted Sam and Dean back to the campsite, the first thing they noticed is that you were missing. 

“What happened? Where’s (Y/n)?” 

Haley’s mouth opened to say something, but all she could do was shake her head. 

“He got her,” Ben muttered, hand tightly clutching his sister's jacket, shaken by what he had just witnessed. Dean’s eyes widen as he looks over to his brother. 

“It came out of nowhere.” Haley finally finds the strength to speak, one single tear running down her face. “It just picked her up, and she was gone.” 

That couldn’t have been right. He and Sam were only gone for what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. 

“Son of a bitch!” Dean exclaims, kicking a nearby tree. He was breathing heavily and didn’t care that everyone was watching him. The only thing on his mind was that you were somewhere in the forest with the Wendigo, probably injured or possibly dead. 

Dead. 

“Dean, it’s gonna be alright. We’ll find her and Tommy, and bring them back safe and sound.” This time, it was Sam’s turn to comfort his brother. However, he was finding it troubling at the moment, not being able to face the fact that you were gone. 

“Sam, if anything happens to her–”

“I know. I won’t forgive myself either.” Sam could see the angry tears he was trying to hold back. He walks over to his brother, placing a hand of support on his shoulder. Sam didn’t say a word, but Dean was thankful for his consolation. 

The brothers make eye contact, silently reassuring each other that you would be just fine. 

Hopefully, they were right.

* * *

You weren’t sure if it was the pain in your possibly sprained wrist or the tender stinging every time you took a deep breath that woke you up, but it was one of the two. 

Hissing at the pain, you conclude that your right wrists had to be sprained and at least one of your ribs on your right side was bruised. Luckily, the only other injuries you had suffered were a few scratches on your cheeks and a scraped knee. 

You look around the dark cave you are trapped in and you blink your eyes to make sure you were seeing correctly. 

Hanging a few feet away from you was Tommy Collins. His face was caked in dirt and blood, and his eyes were closed. However, he was breathing and that was all you cared about. 

“Hey!” Tommy only shifts at your first attempt to wake him up. You call his name out in a louder whisper, not wanting to disturb the Wendigo if it was anywhere near you. “Tommy! Tommy, come on. I need you to wake up for me.”

You painfully breathe out a sigh of relief as his eyes open and he awakens fully when he sees another living person in the cave with him. 

“Who are you? And how do you know my name?” Tommy asks, voice strained and dry due to the lack of water he’s had in the past few days. 

“My name’s (Y/n). I was out there looking for you with Haley and Ben. They’re really worried about you,” you tell him, and his face lights up at your mentioning of his siblings. 

“Oh, my God. Are they okay? They aren’t out there alone, are they?” 

“No, not at all. My friends Sam and Dean are with them. They’re safe” you inform him and he relaxes (as much as he can) at this information. You look back up to your wrists and cringe at the swollen skin, barely containing the groan that tries to pour out of your mouth. Tommy turns to you at the sound, a worried look in his face. 

“Don’t move,” he instructs, “you’re only gonna make it worse.” You know he’s right, but the only thing on your mind was getting Tommy back to his siblings. 

“We gotta get out of here. Get you back to your family,” you groan out, as pain shoots through the right side of your body. 

Okay, maybe it was more than one rib. 

“How do we do that?” Tommy questions, having been trying for days. “If we try to make a run for it, we’re dead. If we stay and try to fight it, we’re dead.”

You attempt to answer him, but you become lightheaded, body going limp as you slip into unconsciousness. Tommy calls out your name and is alarmed when you don’t respond to him. 

“(Y/n)? (Y/n) stay with me! You gotta stay awake so you can see your friends again, right? ”

You tried to fight your body, but not even the thought of Sam and Dean out looking for you could keep your eyes open. 

Tommy still didn’t get a response, and he cursed when he saw you were fully unconscious.

“Shit.”

* * *

The next time you woke up, you thought you were hallucinating. Your tired, apprehensive state hallucinating what you wanted to see and giving you false hope that you were going to be okay. 

But when Sam cupped your dirt-ridden face with his hands, you realized it was actually him. 

“Sammy,” you cry out as he checks over you. “I’m sorry, I should have been more careful.” All of the adrenaline and pain pumping through your body was making you delirious, and you only worsened when you saw Haley and Dean hanging next to you. 

“Is he okay? Are they okay?” You rush out, and Sam nods his head moving to wake up Dean before he got either of you down. Ben was busy with Haley as Sam shook Dean awake. 

Sam calls his brother’s name, making sure he was alright. “Dean. Hey, you okay?”

Dean grunts out his answer, obviously sore from being grabbed by the Wendigo. 

“Ugh, yeah.” He grimaces at the uncomfortable position his arms are in, and Sam works to get him down. 

“Help (Y/n), Sammy,” Dean commands, groaning when Sam removes his arm from the tie he was in and gently lays him down onto the ground on his side. Dean watches as Sam goes back to let you down, and is concerned when he hears you wincing in pain. 

“Tell me what hurts, darlin',” Sam instructs you and you relish in hearing his voice again. 

“Wrist and ribs,” you hiss out as he tries his best to maneuver you without causing you any more pain. Once your wrists are free, he hurries to apologize for what he has to do next. 

“I’m sorry, but this is going to hurt,” is all he says before he lifts you up into his arms as carefully as possible to carry you over to where Dean lied. You grip his shoulder with your uninjured wrist in lieu of screaming at the stabbing feeling in your side. 

The next face you see is Dean, and although he’s in pain, he gives you a wide smile. 

“There she is,” he beams, and you're sure your smile looks more like a grimace, but he took it anyway. Breathing shallowly, you then remember the last face you saw before you passed out. 

“Tommy’s alive,” you tell them and Haley and Ben turn to you. “He was alive the last time I saw him and he was right across from me, ” You’re ignoring the pain in your ribs, more worried about where Tommy went and if he was still alive. 

“Okay, okay,” Sam soothes rubbing your knee to console you, “We’ll get him. Just calm down.”

Haley looks up, only to see her brother hanging limp just like she was a few minutes ago. Tears fall from her eyes as she sees her brother, beaten and bloody. She cups his face, praying that he wasn’t dead. 

“Tommy,” she sobs, fearing the worst. You all jump back when he gasps awake, thinking that the hand on his face was not a friendly one. Haley looks in awe at him, shocked but grateful he was alive.

“Cut him down!” Haley directs Sam, who hurries to cut the rope that was holding him up. Tommy collapses in his brother’s arm, fatigue and soreness running rampant throughout his body. 

“Watch your legs,” Sam warns him as Ben gets him into a more comfortable position. 

You are interrupted from the happy reunion when Dean shifts next to you, reaching into a bag that was on the ground next to him. He pulls out something, but you don’t have the chance to ask what it was before he turns to you, a relieved look on his face. 

“How’s my girl? Can you walk?” 

If you weren’t in so much pain at the moment, you would have caught his first question. 

You nod at his second question, and he hoists you up, careful of your sprained wrist. You clutch your middle in pain and advance over to Tommy to make sure he was alright. Brushing off the worried glances of Sam and Dean, you smile as Tommy’s face comes into view. 

“You were right, (Y/n),” he praises and your heart warms at the sight of Haley and Ben embracing their brother. 

“Check it out,” Dean announces, and you finally see what he was digging in the bag for earlier. He holds up two flare guns with a smug look gracing his features. 

“Those will work,” Sam chuckles, grinning at the thought of ridding Black Water Ridge of the beast for good. The soft laugh you huff out as Dean swings the guns like he was in an old western causes you to tremble in pain, but you can’t worry about that now. You’ve got a hunt to finish. 

* * *

Everyone was silent as you tried to make your way out of the cave. 

You were halfway leaning on Sam for support as he and Dean lead the way, flare guns ready and available at a moment’s notice.

A deep growling prompts you to let go of Sam as he raises his gun. You silently thank Ben as he moves his left arm and wraps it around you, making sure you didn’t fall.

The growling continues, signaling that the Wendigo was back. 

“Looks like someone’s home for supper,” Dean comments, carefully looking around him. 

“We’ll never outrun it,” Haley objects, and Dean turns to her, not happy with the fact that she was correct. It was too fast and would be pissed off once it realized it’s dinner had escaped. 

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Dean asks his brother and Sam nods. 

“Yeah, I think so.” 

As the growling echoes throughout the cave, Dean turns around with a serious look on his face. He knew you wouldn’t like the idea, but his main priority was getting everyone to safety. Even if it meant he didn’t. 

“Stay with Sam. He’s gonna get you out of here.” Dean doesn’t even get to blink before you voice your distaste for his plan.  “Dean, are you crazy? You’re not going alone, I won’t let you,” you exclaim, still holding your middle. He could see how desperate you were to get him to listen but he didn’t want to hear it. 

He was going and it was final. 

“It’s okay. Sam, make sure she doesn’t follow me,” Dean tells Sam, who puts his hand on your bicep. Sam forces himself to ignore your pleas as Dean yells to catch the attention of the Wendigo. 

“It’s chow time you freakin’ bastard! Yeah, that’s right! Bring it on, baby! I taste good!”

You roll your eyes and promise if the Wendigo didn’t end up killing him, you were going to do it instead.

Sam raises his gun and scouts out an area nearby, before rushing the Collins siblings and yourself over to follow him. “All right, come on. Hurry!”

Ben wraps his arm back around you and you could only imagine how pitiful you all look limping over to him. As you carefully made your way through the cave you could hear Dean’s distant yells, taunting the Wendigo away from further and further away from you. 

You thought it was working until you realized that the growling was getting louder and closer. 

Sam turns back to Haley and Ben. “Get them out of here,” he says, motioning to you and Tommy. You would have laughed in disbelief if it didn’t hurt so much. Luckily, Haley didn’t agree with him right away. 

“Sam, no,” Haley replies, not wanting to leave him alone either. He tells her to go in a stern voice, but you turn to her and stand up as straight as possible. 

“Haley, take your brothers. I’ll stay with Sam.” 

Sam doesn’t get a chance to rebut due to the angry look on your face. Hayley gives you both a longing look before retreating down another tunnel of the cave. 

“You’re crazier than your brother if you think I’m gonna leave you here by yourself, Sammy,” you inform him. The humorless expression on your face confirms what you said, and he knows he’s going to regret this later. 

“Fine. But stay close.”

Sam presses himself against the wall of the cave and you follow suit, positioning yourself right next to him. He holds his gun next to his head, breathing heavily at the possibility of the creature being somewhere nearby. 

Both you and Sam slowly turn your heads toward the sound of heavy footsteps, eyes widening in horror as you find yourselves face to face with the Wendigo. It lets out a sickening roar and Sam fires the flare gun at it before pulling you away. 

It flees and you take the chance to get away. You yank Sam off of the damp ground and race towards Haley, Ben, and Tommy. 

“Sam!” Hayley exclaims, looking back at your retreating figures. 

“Come on! Hurry, hurry, hurry! Go!” 

As fast as you can, you all begin running away from the snarling silhouette of the Wendigo. Despite the burning sensation in your side, you keep running, feeling the beast advance closer and closer. You feel your stomach drop as you hit a dead end, and look up at Sam in panic. 

“Get behind me,” he says, shoving the four of you in between himself and the rock wall. 

The Wendigo appears and spots you all quickly. Sam doesn’t cower, spreading his arms out as the only barrier between you and the monster. It lets out another deafening roar but is disrupted by a familiar voice. 

“Hey!” 

There is a flash of bright light and the Wendigo howls in pain. You all watch as it begins to burn and falls to the ground, engulfed in flames. 

“Not bad, huh?” Dean boasts, and despite what they had just witnesses, everyone smiles.  
  
  


* * *

The EMT’s confirmed that you had a mildly sprained wrist and two bruised ribs on your right side. They had recommended you got to the hospital to get an x-ray, but you declined, saying you would be fine. 

They wrapped your wrist and sent you off with a disapproving look at your decision to not get yourself checked out, but you ignored it. The bottle of pills somewhere inside of Baby would get you through the pain. Plus, you felt you had more important things to take care of.

You walked past Ben, who was feeding the false story you all agreed on to the rangers across from him. 

“That’s when it circled the campsite. I mean, this grizzly must have weighed 800, 900 pounds,” he explains in front of Sam, who was nodding to play up the story. You smile at him as you make your way to the car, ready to get off of your feet and get some much-deserved rest. 

Dean was sitting against the hood of the car and his face lit up when you came into his view. He stands with open arms and you nearly throw yourself into them. He squeezes you softly, attentive of your stinging middle. Pulling away from him, you are met with the distressed face of the older hunter. 

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again, you hear me?” Even though you are right in front of him, he still can’t shake the feeling of anxiety running through his body. 

“I could say the same about you, mister,” you reason, voice raising in pitch. “You were the one who ran off by yourself.” He shrugs off your point, just happy you all got out of there safe. 

“Whatever,” he grins down at you. “Just promise me that you won’t let that happen again.”

“Fine. As long as you promise me the same thing,” you sass back, holding up your pinky. He intertwined his longer pinky around yours, causing you to smile. You both knew that the promises just made would never be certain, but as long as you were alive at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. 

Dean raises your hand to his lips, pinkies still hooked together and presses a gentle kiss into the back of your hand. 

“Hey, (Y/n)?” A soft voice causes you to pull your hand back rather quickly. You miss the hurt look on Dean’s face when you turn to see Haley standing in front of you. 

“Do you mind if I talk to Dean for a second?” She asks and you nod silently, giving the two some space. You walk a few feet closer to Sam and watch Dean give Haley a smug smile. You would have thought it was attractive if you were so bothered by the fact that it wasn’t directed towards you. 

“How are you feeling?” Turning, you spot Sam and Ben walking over to you. 

“Sore and tired. But, overall, I’m good,” you lie, making it a point to not glance over at Dean and Haley. “I’m glad you guys are alright, though.” Ben and Sam smile at you, however, you and Sam hold eye contact longer than either of you meant to. 

“You riding with your brother?” 

You snapped away from Sam’s eyes as an EMT walked past you and over to Haley. She nods before confirming that she was. Ben, Sam, and yourself move back over to Dean and Haley as she looks to her younger brother. 

“Let’s go,” she commands softly, and he nods. Sam gives Ben a soft pat on the shoulder as a goodbye and you smile at the younger boy, assuming this was the last time you would see him. 

Haley puts her attention back on Dean and you somehow manage to keep a blank expression as she leans in and kisses his cheek. 

“I hope you find your father,” she tells him before turning around and wrapping an arm around her brother's shoulders. 

“Thanks, Sam,” Haley grinned up at the tall Winchester. She turns to you and surprises you with a one-armed, but grateful hug. She pulls away with a soft smile on her face. 

“Thank you too, (Y/n).” You smile back at her, only for a moment forgetting about her attraction to Dean. In all honesty, she was a nice girl and a good person. You couldn’t resent her for liking Dean even though you wanted to. 

They leave you, but not without Haley giving Dean a longing look goodbye. You watch as Haley and Ben clamor into the back of the ambulance, dotting over the brother they once feared they had lost.

You only lean against Baby’s hood, the pain of your ribs too painful and too noticeable to move around any further. Sam takes his spot on the other side of you and the siren sounds, taking away the Collins siblings. 

Now that his mind was off of rescuing Tommy, Sam becomes dejected once again when he is reminded of the fact that you still hadn’t found John. 

“Sam, you know we’re gonna find Dad, right?” his brother claimed, also sensing Sam’s mood dropping off. 

“Yeah, I know.” Sam’s nod is more reassuring than you expected, and you’re pleased with that fact. “But in the meantime,” he looks over at his brother with a subtle smirk, “I’m driving.”

You look over at Dean with an amused face as he pulls the keys out of his pocket. He throws them up in the air and Sam makes an impressive catch over your head. 

You move to take your spot in the backseat, and you can hear the painkillers screaming your name. Dean opens your door for you and assists you in the car, not wanting you to injure yourself any further. He winks at the appreciative look you send him, before shutting your door and entering the car himself. 

Sam revs the engine before pulling off, prepared to do whatever it takes to find his father. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Episode: Dead in the Water


	3. "Dead in the Water"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is episode 3. Flashback start this episode! Fourth is coming soon. Hope you enjoy! (Feedback and kudos are appreciated!)
> 
> Warning(s): canon violence, canon death(s), language, angst (for the reader finally), mentioning of traumatic events, death (mentioned), drowning(s), mentioning of infertility, threatened reader, a little bit of fluff

After a few days of the brothers forcing you to rest the injuries you sustained from the Wendigo, you had finally convinced them that you were healthy enough to hunt again. The puppy dog eyes and pouty lip (that you only utilized in the direst of situations) had worked to your advantage. 

You chose the diner connected to the motel you were residing at to look for a possible job, eager to get back in action. Empty plates and scribbled on newspaper were cluttered in front of you as you searched for any unusual deaths. 

Sam had run off to the bathroom, which left Dean alone with you. He was sitting close enough to cause his arm to brush up against yours whenever he shifted, which was something that the both of you secretly enjoyed. While you had a chance, you couldn’t help but stare at the concentrated look on his face. Your eyes run over the small layer of stubble he was sporting and found yourself to be appreciative that he had not shaved in the past two days. His eyebrows were pinched together and his tongue kept reaching out to wet his plump bottom lip. 

He suddenly moves to circle a possible case, and you quickly avert your eyes, hoping he didn’t see you staring. You turn back to the paper in front of you to get back to work but are interrupted. 

“Can I get you all anything else?”

You and Dean look up and are met with the sight of the waitress that had brought your food earlier. Her ample cleavage was hanging happily in your face and you were mesmerized by how shiny her lips were. 

Dean bites his pen and gives her a cheeky smile, but before either of you can get anything out, Sam answers for you. 

“Just the check, please,” he tells her shortly as he sits down on the other side of you. Too focused on the wink she gives you before leaving to get the check, you don’t hear what Dean had to say to Sam. 

“You know, Sam, we are allowed to have fun once in a while.” Dean pauses to look back at the retreating waitress and points to her. “That’s fun.”

Sam gives Dean a tired look, not appreciative of the fact that his attention was on the furthest thing from a hunt. You were no better, seeing as he had to tap your arm in order to get you to stop daydreaming about the pretty waitress. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, giving him a sheepish look. Dean sighs, getting back on track so Sam would stop giving him his bitch face. 

“Here, take a look at this. I think I got one.” Dean then slides one of the newspapers he was skimming over to you and Sam, the picture of a teenage girl circled. “Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin––last week, Sophie Carlton, 18, walks into the lake, doesn’t walk out. Authorities dragged the water––nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago.”

Dean’s last sentence caught you off guard. 

“Wait, a funeral?” you question, wondering why the family had a funeral if there was no body. Dean nods his head, understanding your confusion. 

“They buried an empty coffin for closure or whatever,” he states apathetically, moving back to another piece of newspaper. 

“Closure?” Sam huffs out a sarcastic laugh. “What closure? People don’t just disappear, Dean. Other people just stop looking for them.” 

You sigh at Sam’s comment, sensing it was a jab at his older brother and possibly you too. 

“Something you want to say to me?” Dean challenges, looking past you to his brother. Both of them now had a guarded expression on their faces, ready to defend themselves from whatever the other had to say. 

“The trail for Dad––it’s getting colder every day,” Sam reminds Dean in a bitter tone. 

“Exactly, What are we supposed to do?” Dean questions, slightly offended that his brother felt that he had forgotten this fact. He thought about it every damn day since John went missing, but he had no idea where to start. 

“I don’t know. Something. Anything.” 

You know why Sam was so adamant about finding his father. The reason was like a broken record playing over and over again inside your head, and it was driving you crazy. 

“You know what? I’m sick of this attitude,” Dean jeers, shaking his head. “You don’t think we want to find Dad as much as you do?”

Sam tried to speak, but his brother didn’t give him a chance. 

“We’re the ones that have been with him every single day for the past two years, while you’ve been off to college going to pep rallies!” The volume of Dean’s voice was gradually rising, so you decided to step in. 

“Okay, stop. I don’t understand how many times I have to remind you both that we’re not going to get anywhere if you keep arguing with each other,” you express to the brothers, tired of being in the middle of their squabbles both literally and figuratively. If you could help it, you always tried to be the voice of reasoning between the two of them. 

“We will find John, but we can’t sit around on our asses and wait for a solid lead. So with that being said,” you pause to give both of them a stern look, “until we do find one, which we will eventually, we do the job. We all know that’s what he would want.” 

Sam and Dean nod at your suggestion, thankful that they had you to smack some sense into the both of them. Your serious manner melted right away when the waitress from before walked past again. She is followed by two not-so-subtle pairs of eyes and Sam huffs out an irritated breath at you and his brother. 

“All right, Lake Manitoc,” Sam announces, trying to get your attention. Neither you nor Dean is looking at him, still enamored by the blonde beauty who was now on the other side of the restaurant. 

“Hey,” he calls out, louder, and you and Dean snap your heads back over to Sam together, speaking at the same time. 

“Huh?”

Sam gestures to the newspaper that he had thrown back in front of you when you weren’t looking.

“How far?”

* * *

You were relieved to see a sign signaling you had finally made it to Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. 

The long drive had knocked you out and your ribs were not happy about the position you had been in for the last hour. You made a mental note to force down some aspirin when Sam and Dean weren’t looking.

Despite your valiant effort to withhold the grimace that made an attempt to break out on your face, Sam noticed your discomfort anyway. He decided to keep his mouth shut and save the displeasure he had for you hiding that you were in pain for later. 

After you reach the porch, Dean knocks on the door. Through the window, you can see a young man approaching, no older than you or Dean. He swings the door open and you felt sorry for him when you spotted the heavy bags under his eyes. 

“Will Carlton?”

He nods hesitantly, not sure how you knew his name. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“I’m Agent Ford, these are Agents Hamill and Fisher.” Remaining professional, you manage to hold back a snort at the familiar names. “We’re with the U.S. Wildlife Service.”

The fake badge Dean held up was convincing enough for Will to let you inside the house and take you to where Sophie had died. 

Walking into the back yard, you see an older man sitting alone in a chair on the edge of the deck. He was staring out at nothing, no doubt trying to come to terms with the recent death, but you knew that would probably never happen. You stand a few feet away from the lake and Will turns around to describe his sister’s tragic death. 

“She was about 100 yards out,” he recalled, looking out to where Sophie took her last breaths. “That’s where she got dragged down.”

Dean then asked a question you knew Will wouldn’t want to hear, but it was necessary. No sense in investigating if there was nothing to investigate.

“And you’re sure she didn’t just drown?”

Will shook his head, the possibility not even crossing his mind. 

“She was a varsity swimmer,” he informed you, “she practically grew up in that lake. She’s as safe out there as in her own bathtub.” 

With this revelation, the idea that this was just an unfortunate accident was the furthest thing from true. 

“So no splashing, no signs of distress?” 

“No, that’s what I’m telling you.” Will shakes his head at the tallest Winchester, tired of repeating the same thing over and over again.

“Did you see any shadows in the water, maybe some dark shape breach the surface?” You ask, trying to squeeze anything you could out of him in the most respectable way possible.

To your disappointment, he only shook his head again.

“No, again, she was really far out there,” Will tells you, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?” Dean’s question piqued Will’s interest, figuring that there had to be a deeper meaning to your questions. 

“No, never. Why? What do you think’s out there?”

That was a good question. 

“We’ll let you know as soon as we do,” Dean answers, before turning back to Baby. You move to follow him, but stop when Sam stays to ask another question. 

“What about your father? Can we talk to him?” 

Will shifts uncomfortably, looking back at his father who hadn’t moved positions at all since you’d been there. 

“Look, if you don’t mind, I mean, he didn’t see anything, and he’s kind of been through a lot,” Will reasons and you nod your head. 

“We understand,” you smile sadly at him before getting into the car. Will watches as you drive away, starting to sense something else was going on. 

He just couldn’t tell what.

* * *

Once again, your fake badges had worked in your favor, this time by gaining the trust of the local sheriff. 

“Now, I’m sorry, but why does the wildlife service care about an accidental drowning?” The sheriff moved to let you into the back of the department as he asked the question. You followed Sam with Dean behind you as you were led to what you presumed to be his office.  “You sure it’s accidental?” Sam asks, and the sheriff looks back at him like he was crazy. “Will Carlton saw something grab his sister.”

The sheriff didn’t seem to believe what Sam had to say, but at least he was willing to listen. 

“Like what? Here, sit, please,” he requests before continuing. “There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake.” 

There were only two chairs available in the office, and Dean motions for you to take the seat next to Sam. You give him a subtle rub on his arm as a thank you before sitting down. Sam catches the small action and wonders if you would have done the same to him if he had offered first. Dean stands behind you, placing his hands on the back of your chair as you all listen to the sheriff swear up and down that it had to be an accident. 

“There’s nothing even big enough to pull down a person unless it was the Loch Ness Monster.”

That pulls a sarcastic chuckle from Dean and Sam sends him a look to remind him to remain professional. 

“Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes the mind plays tricks. Still,” the sheriff sits down, “we dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep just to be sure, and there was nothing down there.”

“That’s weird, though. I mean, that’s the third missing body this year,” Dean stresses, leaning over your shoulder. You try to ignore the way his middle presses into you, but the amount of heat that was radiating off of him was making it difficult. 

“I know. These are people from my town. These are people I care about,” The sheriff declares with a determined look on his face, and you could tell that he was genuinely worried. 

“Anyway,” he sighs, throwing his arms up in exasperation, “all this––it won’t be a problem much longer.” You tilt your head in confusion as to why he would say something like this given that he didn’t really know what was causing the deaths. 

“What do you mean?” Dean asks, also confused as to why he was so sure of something that he appeared to have no control over. 

“Well, the dam of course.” The sheriff speaks as if this was something you should have known, so you nod your head to cover the fact that you had no idea what he was talking about. 

“Of course,” Dean responds, acting as if he already knew the information that was just revealed to you all. “The dam.” His cover-up was borderline pathetic as he nodded along, pretending that he was aware of this. 

“It’s uh,” Dean stumbles over his words, not knowing what to say. “It sprung a leak.” 

The sheriff’s eyes sparkle with skepticism and doubt as he corrects the older Winchester. “It’s falling apart. And the feds won’t give us the grant to repair it, so they’ve opened the spillway. In another six months, there won’t be much of a lake.” 

You look over to Sam and up and Dean, who seemed just as concerned as you were. 

“There won’t be much of a town, either,” the sheriff adds, “but as federal wildlife, you already knew that.” 

The three of you nod accordingly at the man, feeling the bluff you were utilizing beginning to shatter. A soft knock on the door hinders the conversation from going any further. A young, fresh-faced woman carefully enters the office.

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” She asks, looking to the sheriff. “I can come back later.” 

You rise out of your seat, turning to the woman as the sheriff introduces her. “Officers, this is my daughter.” You smile at the woman and watch as Dean holds his hand out to greet her. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Dean,” he beams, and she smiles right back up at him. 

“Andrea Bar. Hi.”

You stuffed down the sickening feeling in your stomach and told yourself they were just being friendly with one another. 

“They’re from the wildlife service––about the lake,” Andera’s father tells her and her bright appearance slightly dulls. Before you can make anything of it, a little boy steps out from behind her. 

“Oh, hey there!” Dean greets the boy in a cheery manner. “What’s your name?” 

The next thing you see is the back of the little boy’s head as he quickly turns away and scurries out of the office. You got the impression that he wasn’t much of a talker and you wondered why. Andrea sends you all an apologetic look, but it didn’t seem she was surprised by his actions. She moves, presumably to go find where her son had run off to, and the sheriff takes the opportunity to explain. 

“His name is Lucas,” he informs you and you find yourself smiling at the small interaction that she and Lucas were sharing just a few feet away. 

“Is he okay?” You ask, turning back to the sheriff. There had to be an underlying reason as to why a young boy like Lucas seemed so disheartened. 

“My grandson’s been through a lot. We all have,” Sheriff Devins breathes out while coming around from his desk. “Well, if there’s anything else I can do for you, please let me know.” The sheriff raises his arm to guide you out, but you halt when you hear that Dean has something else to say. 

“You know, now that you mentioned it, could you point us in the direction of a reasonably priced motel,” he asks, focusing most of his attention on Andrea. 

“Lakefront Motel––go around the corner, it’s two blocks up,” she notifies you and you send her a thankful smile before turning to leave. However, Andrea has seemed to leave an impression on Dean, who decides he wants her to stick around a little longer. 

“Two–” Dean begins with his finger in the air to appear confused with her directions. “Would you mind showing us?”

Andrea laughs at Dean’s act. “You want me to walk you two blocks?” 

You try not to appear as annoyed as Sam, as this was something you were used to. Wherever there was a pretty girl, Dean couldn’t help but at least attempt to flirt with them. Usually, you ended up watching from the sideline as he talked up nearly any and every woman who caught his eyes. You masked your disappointment with phony smiles and false encouragement as he threw you a proud smile over his usually successful interactions. 

As long as he was happy, you would be alright. 

“Not if it’s any trouble,” Dean quickly adds, not wanting to put her out of her way. The look on Andrea’s face expresses that she would have no problem with helping you all out, especially Dean. 

“I’m headed that way anyway,” Andrea reveals before turning to her father. After informing him that she would be back to pick up her son in a couple of hours, she kneels down next to Lucas. 

“We’ll go to the park, okay, sweetie?” She presses a quick kiss into his head as he continues to focus on his drawing, and then turns to lead your next destination. You all exchange goodbyes with the sheriff as you move to leave. 

“Thanks again,” Sam tells him, and he gives you a small smile as you file to the front of the building. 

Following Andrea outside and through the bustling city, Dean tries to make some small talk. 

“So, cute kid,” he announces, causing you and Sam to give each other a knowing look. She perkily thanks him as you come across a somewhat busy street. 

“Kids are the best, huh?” Dean continues and you cringe at his obvious attempt, crossing the street quickly. Noticing the look Andrea gives him, you snicker, prompting Dean to frown up his face in frustration. You slow and come to a stop when the motel appears across from you.

“There it is. Like I said, two blocks,” Andrea states, only looking at Dean. 

“Thanks,” Sam mutters from behind her, ready to get to work. Before Andrea departs, she leaves Dean with one last comment that has your eyebrows at your hairline and Sam holding back a smirk. 

“Must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line. Enjoy your stay!” 

The look on Dean’s face was enough to force a laugh out of you and Sam turned to his brother. 

“ _ ‘Kids are the best’ _ ?” Sam repeats both amused and embarrassed at how short Dean had fallen with Andrea. “You don’t even like kids,” he adds in knowingly. 

“I love kids,” Dean retorts back with a perplexed look on his face. 

“Name three children that you even know,” you command, knowing good and well he wouldn’t be able to come up with an answer. He opens his mouth to try and prove you wrong, but nothing comes out. Sam rolls his eyes at his brother and turns to enter the motel. 

Dean drops his arms in defeat and you grin teasingly at him, looping one of his arms with yours. 

“I was thinking,” he grumbles as you both walk together. The pouty look on his face tells you that he still hadn’t come up with anything, and you pat his arm in reassurance. 

“Don’t bust a blood vessel, big guy.”

* * *

Sitting across from Sam, you listened intently as he recited any information he had found that could help you with the case. 

“So there’s the three drowning victims this year,” he announces, eyes not moving from the computer screen. 

“And before that?” You ask, watching Dean who stood behind Sam, busy rifling through the flannels and t-shirts he had brought along. 

Sam nods, reading through a number of dated newspaper articles. “Yeah, six more, spread out over the past 35 years. Those bodies were never recovered, either. If there is something out there, it’s picking up its pace.”

“So we got a lake monster on a binge?” Dean suggests, and you can’t tell if he’s serious or only joking. 

“This whole lake monster theory––it just bugs me,” Sam interjects, causing you and Dean to look at him in confusion. Sam’s eyebrows furrowed as he continued to look over the articles. 

“Why?” Dean asks, dropping the shirt in his hands and moving to lean over his brother’s shoulder. Awaiting his response, you assumed he had good reason to doubt the theory. 

“Loch Ness, Lake Champlain––there are literally hundreds of eyewitness accounts, but here: almost nothing,” Sam shrugs. “Whatever is out there, no one’s living to talk about it.”

Gingerly getting out of your seat, you make you way over to Sam’s other side. Leaning on his shoulder for support, you almost miss how his body slightly stiffened before quickly relaxing. You bite your lip and decide to ignore it, moving your attention to the laptop in front of you.

Sam clicks the mouse and a different page appears. Reading through it, you freeze, seeing a familiar name. 

“Wait,” you pause, reaching to point out what you saw to the brothers. “Barr, Christopher Barr––where have I heard that name before?” It sounded familiar but you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

“Christopher Barr, the victim in May,” Sam reads off, clicking to open the article that contained his name. 

A picture of a soaked, scared little boy appears on the computer, and all you can mutter is a quick “Oh,” when you realize who he is. 

“Christopher Barr was Andrea’s husband, Lucas’ father. Apparently, he took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was floating on a wooden platform when Chris drowned. Two hours before the kid got rescued." 

Your heart broke as you listened to Sam read off what had happened. Lucas’ shy and standoffish demeanor finally made sense to the three of you. Anyone who had to watch their father drown right before their eyes would be shocked into silence. Additionally, the fact that Lucas was a child did not help the matter. 

“Maybe we have an eyewitness after all,” Sam sighs, the possibility of having to question a traumatized child to get any further information on the case not sitting right with him.

“No wonder that kid was so freaked out,” Dean says, not looking away from the photo on the laptop. “Watching one of your parents die isn’t something you just get over.” 

The first thing that should have come to your mind as Dean said this was Mary. Although you would never be able to shake the image of her burning body on the ceiling, that was something you felt you had come to live with. A nightmare here and there would remind you ever so often that you would always be haunted by the flames, but unfortunately, that was no match for the other incident.

* * *

Clouds of dust filled the air around you as children played and skipped on the playground. All of them seemed to be enjoying their time outside as their parents watched them from afar. 

All but one.

Lucas was sitting by himself on the ground a few feet away. Using a wooden bench as a table, he focused intently on the paper and crayons in front of him. It was like the whole world was moving around him, and he was stuck, understandably so, in a dark corner all alone. 

His adamant appetite to be alone was something you understood, seeing that you appreciated the exact same thing after the death of your father. 

“Can we join you?”

Andrea’s head snaps from Lucas, but she relaxes when she sees Dean, Sam, and yourself approaching her. “I’m here with my son,” she tells you, and you look back to Lucas. An idea pops into your head and your feet are moving before you can stop them. 

“Mind if I say hi?” You question as you move towards Lucas as Sam and Dean sit on either side of Angela. They all sit and watch as you reach Lucas. 

“I don’t think she’ll get anything out of him,” Andrea doubted. If his own mother and grandfather couldn’t get anything out of him, why would he open up to a complete stranger?

Dean shakes his head, but Sam answers for him. “You should give her a chance. She’s actually got a way with words.” They all look back to where you were slowly advancing Lucas. 

“Hi Lucas,” you greet softly, worried that if you were any louder you would startle him. “How’s it going?” Lucas doesn’t even spare a glance, but you take no offense to it. Crouching down in front of him, your gaze falls on the little toy soldiers that littered one side of the bench. Smiling at the small memory it brings, you pick one up. 

“My friends over there used to love these things,” you recall, however, he still doesn’t look up from his paper. “Yeah, I get it. Crayons are more my style too.”

On the other side of the bench, there was a stack of drawings. “Hey, these are pretty good,” you observed flipping through them. “Would you mind if I sit and draw with you for a while? I’d like to think I’m not so bad myself.” 

You take his silence as an approval to stay and stand up to sit next to him. Careful of your still-injured ribs, you get situated with a few pieces of paper and a purple crayon. Beginning your masterpiece, you attempt to open up in hopes that he would do the same. 

“You know, I’m thinking you can hear me. You just don’t want to talk,” you disclosed to him, but he still didn’t budge. “I don’t know what happened to your dad, but I know it was something real bad.” 

You take a deep breath before continuing. “I think I know how you feel. When I was a little younger than you, I saw something horrible happen to my dad too. And then a few years later, I saw something else, just as awful.” 

Zoning out, your mind goes back to that awful day 24 years ago. The amount of blood and your mother’s screams would stain your existence until the day you died. 

“Anyway…” you trail off, clearing your throat. “Maybe you don’t think anyone will listen to you, or believe you. But I want you to know that I will.” You took a moment to stop drawing and look at him. 

“You don’t even have to say anything. You could draw me a picture about what you saw that day with your dad on the lake.”

Lucas still hasn’t glanced up at you and you don’t think that he ever would. 

“Okay, no problem,” you tell him, looking down at the stick figures you had drawn while conversing with him. “This is for you.” 

Holding out the piece of paper, you inwardly cringe at your lousy art skills. 

“This is my family. These are my friends, Sam and Dean. We’re not blood, but they’re still family,” you smile while pointing at their respective stick drawings. “That’s my Dad, and there are John and Mary.” You purposefully leave out mentioning your mother, hoping not to dredge up old feelings. 

“All right, so I’m not that good of an artist,” you giggle before sighing. “See you around, Lucas.”

Leaving him the drawing, you move to travel back over to where the brothers and Andrea were now standing. As you walk back, you don’t see Lucas halting his drawing and picking up your own. You hear Andrea inform the brothers that, “Lucas hasn’t said a word, not even to me,” as you advance closer. “Not since his dad’s accident.”

Turning to her, Dean gives her a sympathetic look and a quick apology for her loss. She smiles sadly at him and nods her head in thanks. 

“What are the doctors saying?” Sam questions, wondering if there were any underlying reasons that lead him to not speaking. 

“That it’s a kind of post-traumatic stress,” Andrea shakes her head, not really understanding it herself. All she knew is that her son was suffering in silence, and as far as she knew, she couldn’t help him. 

“That can’t be easy for either of you,” Sam sympathizes, looking back at Lucas. 

Andrea crosses her arms, a grateful smile gracing her face. “We moved in with my dad. He helps out a lot. It’s just…” she trails off, glancing back at her son, who still had not moved. 

“When I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw,” Andrea says solemnly and you share a knowing look with the brothers. Knowing exactly how Lucas felt, the importance of this case grew past the trail of dead bodies this monster had left behind––it was almost personal now. 

“Kids are strong,” you reassure her confidently. “You’d be surprised what they can deal with.” 

“You know, he used to have such life. He was hard to keep up with to tell you the truth.” Andrea is smiling brightly now, the memories of her spirited little boy overflowing in her head. But as soon as the smile came, it went. “Now he just sits there, drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish–” Andrea halts her sentence when Lucas appears behind Dean. 

“Hey, sweetie.”

Lucas positions himself in between Dean and his mother. Keeping his head down, he holds up the paper in his hand up to you. Andrea looks at you with wide eyes as you gently take it from him. 

“Thank you so much, Lucas,” you praised, looking over what he had drawn for you. Apparently, he had listened to every word you said and was able to come up with something that would help you. He quickly retreats without saying a word and you all watch longingly as he walks away.

* * *

While Sam went to see what he could learn from the townspeople, you decided to hang back with Dean back in their motel room. 

Sounds from a low-grade, daytime soap opera filled the room as you scrolled away on Sam’s laptop, attempting to see if there was anything you all missed on the first read-through of the articles. Spotting nothing new, you sigh loudly in frustration and shut the laptop. 

Dean, who was sprawled out on one of the beds watching the television, turned to you.

“Everything okay over there, sweetheart?” 

A shake of your head and a glum look is all Dean needs before he is sitting up on the bed and motioning for you to come and sit next to him. He watches as you move over and place yourself next to him. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Dean asks softly, gently nudging you. You sigh again before resting your head on his flannel-covered shoulder. The small yet intimate gesture had Dean holding back a smile as he listened to you tell him what was discouraging you. 

“It’s just this case. I feel like we’re just running in circles with this one and someone else is gonna die because of it.” The only new tip you had gotten concerning the case was Lucas’ drawing. However, even staring at it for a good while, you had gotten nothing from it. 

“Hey,” he lightly scolds, “don’t talk like that. I know we haven’t gotten much, but we’ll catch a break soon. We always do.” The vibrations of his deep, rumbling voice traveled throughout his entire body as he spoke, comforting you without even trying. His reassuring words tried their best to make you feel better, and to a certain extent, they did. You knew you were overthinking it. To the point where you were doubting you would figure out what was going on, but with Dean’s help, the odds felt a little better. 

But that wasn’t the only thing bothering you. 

Talking with Lucas had involved you opening up about something you tried so hard to never speak about again. The tragedy was rearing its ugly head and digging its claws into you more so now than in the past few years. Playing tug-of-war with your conscious was its favorite thing to do, and right now it was winning. 

Knowing you too well, Dean sensed there was something else. 

“That’s not all is it?” 

You slowly lift your head off of Dean’s shoulder and he catches himself missing the warmth that previously resided there. Dean was your best friend, your rock––your everything. But you weren’t sure how he would react to what happened and you didn’t want to risk anything. 

Would he scream? Would he yell? Would he look at you any differently?

The fear of finding out the answers to these questions rendered you speechless and a hot blanket of concern fell over Dean. 

“(Y/n)?” 

His eyebrows were making friends now, pressing together as he shifted towards you. Hand now cradling your bicep, all of his attention is now on you. Masking the pure feeling of terror trembling throughout your body, you plaster on a fake smile and reach up to squeeze the hand on your arm. 

It’s just my ribs, De,” you lie, and he immediately relaxes. “Just need some more meds and I’ll be alright.” He almost believed you, but he didn’t have any time to think about it due to the motel door swinging open. Sam swaggers in and plops himself on the bed next to you. 

“So, I think it’s safe to say we can rule out Nessie,” he announces, a tired look on his face telling you he had probably been all across town. 

“What do you mean?” You question, scooting over to give him more room. 

“I just drove past the Carlton house. There was an ambulance there. Will Carlton is dead.”

Both you and Dean snap your heads over to him in shock. 

“He drowned?” Dean exclaims as you look at Sam with wide eyes. 

Sam quickly nods. 

“Yep,” he answers. “In the sink.” 

The fact that the last two victims that had died were brother and sister could not have been a coincidence. “So this isn’t a creature. We’re dealing with something else,” you conclude, shaking your head. 

“Yeah, but what?” Sam throws back, racking his brain to try and make everything make sense.

Dean starts rattling off ideas as you and Sam sit in silence. “A water wraith maybe? Some kind of demon? I mean, something that controls water…” Dean pauses, but then a look of realization forms on his face. 

“Water that comes from the same source,” he began, putting the pieces together. 

“The lake,” Sam continues as you and Dean nod in agreement. “Which would explain why it’s upping the body count. The lake is draining. It’ll be dry in a few months. Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it’s running out of time.”

“And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone almost anywhere,” you conclude.

This was one of the things you loved about being with Sam and Dean. You worked together like a well-oiled machine (for the most part), and when you got going you went fast. You all could finish where the other left off, figuring out the story together––as a team. 

“This is gonna happen again soon,” Dean concludes, hurrying over to slip his boots back on. 

“And we do know one other thing for sure,” Sam admits, looking between you and Dean. “We know that this has got something to do with Bill Carlton.” 

“It took both his kids,” you add, reaching to slip on your shoes also, suspecting that you were getting ready to have to leave in a hurry. 

“And I’ve been asking around. Lucas’ dad, Chris,” Sam pauses for emphasis, “Bill Carlton’s godson.”

With this revelation, you knew exactly what the next step would be. 

“Let’s go pay Mr. Carlton a visit.”

The man you had driven down to see was in the exact same spot that you saw him in last time. His face was emotionless, but his eyes were filled with pain and sorrow. 

“Mr. Carlton?” Sam tenderly calls out, not wanting to disturb him any more than he had been. His head turns slowly, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“We’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind,” Sam insisted, looking to you and Dean for some encouragement. 

“We’re with the department–”

Dean was swiftly interrupted by Mr. Carlton. “I don’t care who you’re with,” he blurted out before turning his head back towards the lake. “I’ve answered enough questions today.” 

“Your son said he saw something in that lake.” Although he knew he was hurting, Sam politely dismissed Mr. Carlton’s wish. You knew it would come off as rude to push, but right now, he was your best lead. 

“What about you? You ever see anything out there?” You question, but he still sits silent and unmoved. You sigh in defeat as he says nothing, but feel it was best to keep going. “Mr. Carlton, Sophie’s drowning and Will’s death––we think there might be a connection to you or your family.”

When Mr. Carlton opens his mouth, his voice is wavering and broken.

“My children are gone,” he choked out. “It’s worse than dying.” 

Looking up at the three of you, the tears pooling in his eyes disclosed just how much pain he was in. “Go away,” he mutters, barely remembering to add a please at the end. Getting the impression that you were going to upset him further and ruin your chances of speaking to him later, you leave. 

“So what do you guys think?” Sam questions and Dean exhales loudly before answering. 

“I think the poor guy’s been through hell,” Dean starts, almost sounding sympathetic. “I also think he’s not telling us something.” As you all decline to get in the vehicle right away, the Carlton house catches your eye. Something about it feels oddly familiar as you gaze upon it, and it only takes a few seconds for you to remember where you’ve seen it before. 

“Huh,” you mutter, ignoring Sam’s previous question on what you should do next. 

“What, sweetheart?” Dean asks as he and Sam follow your eyes to the house in front of you.

Remembering back to the picture Lucas had drawn, the house looked ridiculously alike. “Maybe Bill’s not the only one who knows something.” Pulling the paper out of your back pocket, you unfold it and hold it up. 

The roof, windows, and everything in between matched, confirming your suspicion that the drawing was of the house in front of you. Turning to Sam and Dean, you have a pretty good idea of who your next lead was going to be.

* * *

_ July 25, 1979 _

_ As Mary rocked a 6-month-old Dean back and forth, she could feel a lurking pair of eyes on her.  _

_ Realizing it couldn’t have been Julien or John, both of whom were speaking in the living room, it could have only been one other person.  _

_ “You know you’re not as sneaky as you think.” _

_ Mary laughs quietly when she turns and finds a stunned Katherine looking at her with wide eyes.  _

_ “I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to intrude,” she tells Mary, moving out from where she thought was a decent hiding spot. Mary just smiles and shakes her head, rubbing small circles on the small baby boy snuggled in her arms.  _

_ “You know you could never intrude, Kat. I was just trying to get Dean burped before his nap.”  _

_ At the mention of his name, Dean pushes himself up from Mary’s chest and looks up at her. Katherine and Mary both grin, hearts warming at the sight.  _

_ Almost anything Dean did just happened to be remarkably adorable.  _

_ Katherine travels towards her best friend, eyes settled on the small bundle of joy in her arms. He looks away from his mother and turns towards the approaching woman. Katherine holds back a gasp at the sparkle of his big, jade eyes as she reaches them. Holding up a finger for Dean to grab, she nearly melts when his small fingers happily wrap around her own.  _

_ “He’s perfect, Mary,” Katherine breathes, not taking her eyes off of where her hand connected with Dean’s. Mary smiles at the interaction, but it quickly fades as she sees tears pooling in Katherine’s eyes.  _

_ It happened every time Julien and Katherine would come to the Winchester household.  _

_ Whenever Katherine looked at Dean long enough, she would be reminded of all of the negative pregnancy tests and phone calls with her doctor. Although she always blinked them away quickly to not dampen the excitement of the new baby, Mary always noticed.  _

_ “Would you like to hold him again?”  _

_ Katherine shakes her head, reluctantly pulling her finger away from Dean, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped.  _

_ “No, it’s alright. Sorry,” Katherine sighs, but Mary frowns up. _

_ “You have nothing to apologize for,” she tells Katherine sternly, using one arm to keep supporting Dean and wrapping the other around her friend. Mary squeezes her tight, ready and willing to support her friend in whatever path she chose to take during this difficult time.  _

_ Mary steps back to look her best friend in the eye.  _

_ “I know I’ve told you this a million times before, but John and I are here for you. You two are the most deserving people I know, and I’m confident you’ll have a little one to hold in your arms in no time.” _

_ Mary’s soothing voice was always one of the things Katherine loved about her. It always seemed to reassure or calm her down in stressful situations, such as this one.  _

_ “Thanks, Mare,” Katherine smiles, not feeling as somber as before. After taking a moment to wipe away the rest of the tears that had fallen from her eyes, Katherine changes the subject to try and lighten the mood. _

_ “So, um, Julien and I are going to try that new diner downtown tonight. The one that just opened up,” she tells Mary, happy to get her mind on something else.  _

_ Mary smiles at this news. _

_ “How fun!” Mary exclaims, glad her friend was finally taking some time for herself. God knows she needed it. “Maybe you and I can go there next week. Let John and Julien watch the baby and get some much deserved time to ourselves?” _

_ Katherine finds her mood lightening at Mary’s proposal and quickie nods. Whenever she was with Mary, there were three things that she could count on looking forward to; laughs, gossip, and some kind of pie.  _

_ “That sounds great.” _

* * *

As you expected Andrea has reservations about letting you all speak to Lucas again. 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Andrea sighs, shaking her head at the three of you. She didn’t like the idea of questioning Lucas about what he saw that day, which was understandable. The last thing you wanted to do was get Lucas worked up about something he was still trying to get over. 

“We just need to talk to him, just for a few minutes,” Dean tries to reason, but Andrea still doesn’t budge. 

“He won't say anything. What good’s it gonna do?” She asks, and you take a turn trying to convince her. 

“Andrea, we think more people might get hurt,” you reveal, and an alarmed look flashes across her face. “We think something’s happening out there.” 

One would think the serious look on your face and pleading tone should be enough to persuade Andrea that you weren’t attempting to talk to Lucas for nothing. The longer you went without getting any more information from him, the longer whatever you were hunting had to finish its scheme––ultimately meaning more deaths. 

But seeing it easier to believe that nothing out of the ordinary was going on, Andrea denied you once more. 

“My husband, the others––they just drowned. That’s all,” she finalizes, and Dean is quick to jump in. 

“If that’s what you really believe, then we’ll go,” he compromises, “but if you think there’s even a possibility that something else could be going on here, please let us talk to your son.”

* * *

Reaching the doorway to Lucas’ room, the first thing you notice is that he was surrounded by his army men, crayons, and paper again. 

Sam and Andrea stood back as you and Dean slowly near the preoccupied child. You have a feeling that even though he didn’t look up, he knew you were there. 

“Hey, Lucas,” you greet softy as you and Dean crouch down in front of him. “You remember me?” 

Taking no offense to the absence of a response, you turn to the man next to you. 

“Well, this is my friend, Dean,” you introduce, motioning towards him. “The one I drew in the picture.” Dean tilts his head, confused as to what you were referring to, but he shakes it off when he spots some of Lucas’ pictures on the ground next to him. 

You both linger on the pictures of a red bike before turning back to Lucas. 

“You know, I, uh,” you shift to get into a more comfortable position, “I wanted to thank you for that last drawing, but the thing is we need your help again.” 

Dean gives Lucas a worried glance as you pull the drawing out of your back pocket and place it on the ground. Taking a chance, Dean asks a question that both he and yourself already know the answer to. 

“Did you know something bad was gonna happen?”

When Lucas doesn’t acknowledge him, you try a different approach, hoping to get anything you could out of him. “Maybe you could nod yes or no for us?”

Much to your disappointment, Lucas still said nothing. You and Dean share a look, both aware of why he was declining to say anything. 

It was the same reason Dean didn’t speak much after the death of his mother. 

It was the same reason you didn’t speak much after the death of your father. 

“You’re scared,” Dean announces, and although Lucas does seem to be listening, you know he is. He always was. 

“It’s okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too.” 

It was scary how similar Dean’s discussion with Lucas was with the one you shared with Lucas earlier. Although you didn’t expect Dean to share his trauma so openly, it made sense that he would to Lucas. Having been in the same shoes as him, Dean felt a connection to the young boy. 

“I didn’t feel like talking, just like you, but see, my mom––” Dean pauses, swallowing the lump that appeared in his throat whenever she talked about her. “I know she wanted me to be brave.”

You didn’t have to turn around to know that Sam and Andrea were listening in intently, hanging on Dean’s every word––especially Sam. Your soft and supporting gaze rests on Dean as he continues.

“I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe your dad wants you to be brave, too.” 

With this, the crayon slowly drops out of Lucas’ hand as he loosens his grip. Gazing up at you and Dean with wide eyes, he moves to retrieve another drawing. He holds the picture out for you and you gently take it from him. 

“Thanks, Lucas.” Dean looks over the picture as you make eye contact with Lucas.

In his eyes you saw yourself; a scared child, not understanding why something like this has happened to them. At that moment, you wished you could’ve taken it all away, but you knew from experience that, no matter how hard he tried, those feelings would never leave him. 

Just like they never left you.

* * *

_ July 25, 1979 _

_ For the first time in a while, Katherine was enjoying herself.  _

_ Her and Julien were settled at a small table in the corner of the new diner, now indulging on a shared piece of dirt cake as they admired each other across the table.  _

_ “It's really good to see your smile,” Julien beams before scooping a forkful of cake into his mouth. “I’ve missed it.” _

_ Katherine only smiles harder, waiting to swallow her cake before speaking. “Well I finally have something to smile about,” she says, reaching across the table to slip her unoccupied hand into his. She gives it a quick squeeze as a nonverbal thank you for treating her tonight.  _

_ A good meal, nice conversation, and some much needed time alone with her husband distracted her just enough from what had been crushing her mood lately. Ever since the treatments and counseling sessions, all she could focus on is the fact that her body had trouble doing what she prayed would come easy to her. But even though these thoughts still lingered in her mind, the dirt cake that filled her mouth and wonderfully cheery husband succeeded in shifting her attention to something more preferable. _

_ However, all good things must come to an end.  _

_ Out of the corner of her eye, Katherine sees someone behind the lunch counter look at the radio for a few moments before turning the volume up. The professional voice of a meteorologist fills the diner and everyone goes silent.  _

_ “Good evening, everyone. We’re sorry to stop your regularly scheduled listening. The National Weather Service of Douglas County has issued a flash flood warning for the city of Lawrence, Kansas until 10 pm.”  _

_ Katherine sets down her forkful with a sign, not surprised that her wonderful evening was getting interrupted. Julien frowned at how his wife visibly deflated and set his fork down also. After hearing the news, most of the patrons had started to gather their belongings and head for the door. _

_ “Hey,” he stated, “it’s alright. It’s just a little rain. We can take the rest of the cake for the road and finish at home, yeah?”  _

_ Katherine thinks for a moment before nodding, appreciative of her husband's seemingly never-crushing spirit.  _

_ “Yeah, that sounds good.” _

_ With their half-eaten dessert in a doggy bag, Julien and Katherine leave the restaurant and hurry to the car. Tiny drops of rain had already begun to fall as Julien started the car, and by the time they pulled up in front of their house, it was pouring.  _

_ Both Julien and Katherine exited the car and rushed to their porch, happy to have gotten home safely. Katherine watched as her husband fumbled with the keys, but looked back out into the rain as a strange sound caught her off guard.  _

_ “Hold on,” she told her husband, placing a hand over his to get him to stop moving. Julien freezes and gives his wife a worried glance.  _

_ “What’s wrong, Kat?” he asks, but he only receives a shush from Katherine as she begins to walk back out into the pouring rain. It was loud as it hit the concrete and everything around them, but she knew she heard something. _

_ Katherine hurries to the other side of the house, ignoring the pleading calls from her husband to tell him what the problem is. Her heart nearly stopped as the sound increased in volume. Straining her ears to hear past the falling rain, her eyes widened when she made out what she was hearing.  _

_ Rushing closer and closer to where the sound was coming from, she stops as she sees a wicker basket containing a white cotton sheet sitting a few feet in front of her.  _

_ “What the hell, Katherine?” Julien exclaims, not happy that Katherine had run off without any explanation, and in the rain no less. But after he also hears the wails coming from the basket, he grows quiet.  _

_ As soon Julien moves out from behind his wife to approach the basket, the rain stops.  _

_ They both look up to the sky, surprised by now abruptly the downpour ended. Julien looks at his watch and then Katherine.  _

_ “Didn’t the guy on the radio say ten o'clock? It’s only nine,” he informs her before turning back to the basket. Julien advances toward the basket again, Katherine now following closely behind him. Reaching out his hand, he is stunned to find that the sheet is completely dry. It seems as if the basket had somehow avoided getting soaked, which confused the couple.  _

_ The wailings they had heard just a few moments ago had dampened into soft whimpers, and pulling the sheet back, they were startled to find something––someone––looking back at them. _

* * *

“Andrea said that the kid never drew like that ‘till his dad died.”

Sam didn’t look up from Lucas’ drawing as Dean spoke. “There are cases where going through a traumatic experience could make certain people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies,” he says, earning a curious look from his brother. 

“Well, whatever’s out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow?” Dean asks, earning a reluctant shrug from Sam. “And it’s only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please.”

You shift uncomfortably at Dean’s statement.

“Alright. We got another house to find,” Sam announces, looking back at the drawing in his hands. 

“The only problem is there’s about a thousand yellow two-stories in this county alone,” you irritably pointed out, still frustrated that the case was moving along slower than you would have liked it to. And because Lucas was somehow involved, he could also be in danger, which frustrated even you further. You’ll be damned if you let anything happen to him. 

“See this church?” Sam asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. Sitting up to look at the drawing you give him a nod. 

“I bet there’s less than a thousand of those around here,” he suggests, turning to look at you. You stare at the drawing for a moment before glancing back at Sam. A small smile forms on your lips and Sam ignores the flutter in his stomach, shyly grinning back. 

“Oh, college boy thinks he’s so smart,” Dean teases, causing you and Sam to chuckle. The atmosphere in the car then shifts as Sam’s smile quickly falls. He turns to his brother with a woeful look. 

“You know, what you said about Mom,” Sam begins, and Dean shuffles in his seat, “you never told me that before.” 

You knew it was only a matter of time before Sam brought up what he heard Dean disclose to Lucas earlier. The older Winchester was not keen on sharing his feelings with the class, always believing that he had to be the strongest, bravest, and whatever else he felt you and Sam needed. He couldn’t allow his emotions to pour out of him, because, according to John’s teachings, emotions made you vulnerable. And in this job, vulnerability got you or someone you loved injured or worse. 

“It’s no big deal,” Dean shrugs off his brother, not really wanting to discuss the matter any further. Dean swore he could feel your piercing gaze from the backseat, but what bothered him more was the look he was receiving from his brother. 

“Oh, God, we’re not gonna have to hug or anything, are we?” 

All you could do was roll your eyes as Sam laughed at his brother, who almost always seemed to find a way to ruin the moment.

* * *

It didn’t take you long to find a church that matched the one in Lucas’ drawing. 

Dean studied the paper for a few moments as you took in your surroundings. The yellow house across the street told you that you were in the right place and you began to make your way over, sensing you would find some answers. 

After a few knocks on the door and a flash of your fake badge, an older lady allowed you inside. 

“We’re sorry to bother you, ma’am, but does a little boy live here by chance? He might wear a blue baseball cap, has a red bicycle.”

The woman’s eyes widen slightly at Dean’s question, but she shakes her head telling him no. 

“Not for a very long time.”

Turning to a framed picture that sat on the shelf next to you, her eyes filled with sorrow. 

“Peter’s been gone 35 years now,” she sighs. “The police never–– _ I _ never had any idea what happened. He just disappeared.” 

As you listened to her, a familiar sight caught your eyes. Staring at the army men that were scattered on the bookshelf, you subtly nudge Sam and Dean. The look on their faces signaled that they too found it peculiar that the one type of toy that was always around Lucas was also inside the house he had drawn. 

“Losing him––you know, it’s,” she paused to collect herself. “It’s worse than dying.”

You knew where you had heard those words before. 

You attempt to clarify with the woman, interested in the circumstances of his disappearance. 

“Did he disappear from here––I mean, from this house?” 

“He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school,” the woman distressed, “and he never showed up.”

You gave her a sympathetic look, seeing that she was still rocked by the boy’s disappearance after all these years. Sometimes you wonder if your traumas would still be with you that far down the road––if you even made it.

Moving off to the side, Dean sports a picture of two boys and plucks it from its place on the mirror. He inspects it before turning it around, seeing two names scribbled on the back of the dated photo. 

_ Peter Sweeney and Billy Carlton, 1970. _

Leaving the woman with a thank you and quick goodbye, you were back inside of Baby and speeding down the road. 

“Okay, this little boy, Peter Sweeney, vanishes, and this is all connected to Bill Carlton somehow,” you recount, working through everything you had put together out loud. 

“Yeah,” Dean nods, “Bill sure as hell seems to be hiding something, huh?” 

“Bill––the people he loves––they’re all getting punished,” Sam identifies, and a sick thought pops into your head. 

“What if Bill did something to Peter? What if Bill killed him?”

Both Dean and Sam pull up their eyebrows at your argument, agreeing that it was likely. “Peter’s spirit would be furious. It’d want revenge. It’s possible,” Dean states as he pushes the accelerator, ready to speak to Mr. Carlton again. 

Finally pulling up to the house, the three of you rush up towards the porch. You all look around, but see no evidence of anyone inside the home. 

“Mr. Carlton!” Sam calls out, but there is no answer. The sound of a boat engine forces you to whip around, and you’re met with the sight of Mr. Carlton sailing out into the middle of the lake. 

You get Sam and Dean’s attention before bolting towards the deck. As you ran, there was a slight ache in your middle, but you were more worried about Mr. Carlton. 

The three of you loudly pleaded for Mr. Carlton to stop and turn around, but all he did was look back at you. Out of nowhere, the boat flips into the air and crashes back into the water, taking Mr. Carlton with it.

After that, you never saw Bill Carlton again.

* * *

The ride back to the station was completely silent, the three of you trying to grapple with the startling event you had just witnessed. You were now following behind the sheriff, whom you had called and explained the incident to from the Carlton residence. Per his request, you were to meet back at the station to discuss what the next steps would be. 

As you entered, the first thing you saw was Andrea sitting behind the front desk.

“Sam, Dean, (Y/n),” she greeted, a hint of surprise in her voice. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

Sheriff Devins seems to be somewhat puzzled by his daughter’s reaction to seeing you and the brothers. “So now you’re on a first-name basis,” he points out, raising his eyebrows. 

“What are you doing here?” Sheriff Devins asks as he leads the three of you behind the desk. As they got caught up in their discussion, you looked to Lucas, who was sitting behind Andrea. 

The distressed look on his face and the way he was rocking back and forth worried you. Andrea gave you all a hesitant look at her father’s response, but you were too focused on Lucas to notice.

“I heard about Bill Carlton. Is it true? Is something going on with the lake?” 

The sheriff answered her, stating that no one knew what the truth was at the moment and that she should take Lucas and return home. Turning back to Lucas you move to go and ask him what was wrong, but his next actions interrupt you. 

Launching himself out of the chair and towards you, he grabs your arm. Everyone turns to him as he begins to whimper, obviously worked up about something. 

“Lucas?”

Both you and Andrea speak at the same time, the latter reaching over to try and grab her son. 

“Lucas, it’s okay. It’s okay,” you soothe as Sam, Dean, and Sheriff Devins watch his mother attempt to get him to release his grip. Using your free arm, you place a comforting hand on his shoulder and continue to reassure him that everything is alright. As your arm is released, Andrea begins to lead Lucas out of the building. 

His anxious gaze hangs on you as he is ushered towards the door, and you ignore the small itch to follow after him. Andrea leaves you with an apologetic look as she and Lucas exit the station. 

Sheriff Devins sighs deeply before retreating to his office. Both of the brothers were reluctant to follow him as you stood frozen. They watch you for a moment, concerned about how you still haven't moved. Dean gently lays a warm hand on your back to guide you into the office behind Sam. 

You walk in slowly, Dean’s hand still on your back and grounding you. As the sheriff gets settled behind his desk, you notice that Sam was standing a few steps back from the chair he had taken previously. He motions for you to sit with a quick nudge of his head and, even in your slightly shaken state, you give him a small smile. 

A warm feeling spreads throughout his body, but it’s quickly replaced by a sick feeling. His heart should not be fluttering for another girl less than a month after the death of the person he thought he was going to be spending the rest of his life with. 

But it was, and it did almost every time you interacted with him. 

Dean takes the spot next to you as the sheriff begins, the smile that you gave Sam not going unnoticed. 

“Okay, just so I’m clear, you see  _ something _ attack Bill’s boat, sending Bill, who is a very good swimmer by the way, into the drink, and you never see him again?”

To anyone else, it would have sounded like a bizarre scene out of a bad  _ Jaws _ remake, but fortunately, you weren’t anyone else.

“Yeah, that about sums it up,” Dean replies, and you all nod, but that wasn’t good enough for Sheriff Devins.

“And I’m supposed to believe this, even though I’ve already sonar-swept that entire lake  _ and _ what you’re describing is impossible  _ and _ you’re not really wildlife service?” 

A triad of unconvincing astonished looks graced your faces at the sheriff’s last question. 

“That’s right, I checked,” he reveals as you visibly keep your cool, but panic internally. “The department’s never heard of you three.” 

There is a beat of silence before Dean tries to clarify for the three of you. 

“See? Now, we can explain that,” Dean attempts, but the Sheriff is quick to rebut. 

“Enough, please,” he says, cutting Dean off. “The only reason you are breathing free air is because one of Bill’s neighbors saw him steering out that boat just before you did.” Sheriff Devins was sitting on top of his desk now, leaning over you all with his arms crossed. Holding back the urge to roll your eyes at his attempt to show that he was the one in charge, you listen to what he still had to say.

“So we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials and hold you as material witnesses to Bill Carlton’s disappearance, or we can chalk this all up to a bad day, you get into your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don’t ever darken my doorstep again.”

Sam looked innocently at the finger pointed in his face before telling the sheriff the answer he knows you all would have chosen. 

“Door number two sounds good.”

* * *

When the sign that signaled you were out of town appeared in front of the car, you let out a discouraged sigh. 

The only thing that was on your mind was Lucas, whose terrified gaze still haunted you whenever your eyes closed. The last thing you wanted to do was leave in the middle of the case, especially since it was obvious that he was somehow involved. The idea of him or anyone else getting hurt because your bluff got caught left you feeling horrible. 

The car gradually came to a stop as Dean rolled up to the light. He held his foot on the break, a heavy decision weighing on his mind. 

Sam looks at the light and then his brother, confused as to why the car was still not in motion. 

“Green.”

“What?” 

“Light’s green,” Sam repeats, still wondering why you were still sitting in the same place on the road. 

Dean bites his lip, thinking, and then makes eye contact with you in his rearview mirror. The anguish pouring out of your gaze matched Lucas’, and he was now certain about what needed to happen next.

Putting the car into motion, Dean turns right, opposite of the directions on the road sign. 

“Uh, the interstate’s the other way,” Sam points out, looking worriedly in the direction you were supposed to be heading.

The only reply he got was, “I know,” as Dean sped down the road. You smiled to yourself, knowing exactly where you were going.

For the next few minutes, the car was filled with the discussion of the case. While you and Dean believed there was more going on that you didn’t know and you had more work to do, Sam had a different opinion. 

“Guys, this job––I think it’s over.”

“I’m not so sure, Sammy,” you reply, shaking your head in disagreement.

“If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter’s spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest,” Sam tells the both of you, wanting to push the focus back on the task of finding his father. 

“Alright, so what if we take off and this thing isn’t done?” Dean asks. “What if we missed something. What if more people get hurt?”

Sam is still reluctant to agree with his brother, asking why he would think such a thing. 

“Because Lucas was really scared,” you answer for Dean in a small voice. 

“That’s what this is about?” Sam wonders aloud, positioning a slightly sympathetic gaze on you. You let out a long breath, buying time to think of an answer that won’t alarm either of the boys.

“I just don’t think we should leave town until we know the kid’s okay.” 

Both brothers grow silent, biting their tongues at the hint of reluctance in your tone that told them that there was a deeper reason for your wanting to really solve this case. They had both seen it as soon as you laid eyes on a scared Lucas. The pain that unknowingly subsided on your face throughout the last few days was caused by more than two almost-healed bruised ribs. 

Unfortunately, neither of them had the slightest idea of what it was.

* * *

“Are you sure about this?” Sam asks his brother quietly, not wanting to bring any more attention to the three of you. “It’s pretty late, guys.”

It was still dark outside, and the only sound filling your ears was the light chirping of crickets and the quiet buzz of nocturnal insects. You stood on Andrea’s porch, ready to ring the doorbell and try and convince her that there was actually something going on. 

Dean pushed the doorbell and not even a second later before you are met with a hyperventilating Lucas. 

“Lucas? Lucas!” 

You grasp his shoulders in your hands, trying to calm him down. He turns and whips away from you, and you struggle to keep up with him as he leads you through the dark house. 

“Lucas!” Dean calls out, following you as you follow Lucas, Sam behind him. You are taken to a staircase and your eyes widen when you realize that they are drenched in water. You all speed to the door, afraid of what you would find on the other side. Dean pushes Lucas towards you to get him out of the way as he tries the door. Wrapping Lucas up in your arms, you, him, and Sam watch as Dean kicks in the door. 

Sam rushes in, and only getting a glimpse of what was happening, you snatch Lucas back and cradle him. It would do him no good to see his mother in the same state that his father was in before he died. 

Dean stood protectively in front of you and Lucas as you all watch as Sam struggles to pull Andrea from the water. Lucas wiggles in your arms until Sam finally heaves Andrea out of the tub, scared and soaking, but alive. 

She coughs out the little water that had gotten into her lungs as she lays across Sam, still reeling from what had just happened to her. Seeing that she was completely naked, you hand Lucas off to Dean and rush through the unfamiliar setting to find a towel to dry her off and some clothes to wear. After finding a towel in a hallway closet and some clothes in the drawer you’d rifled through, you hurry back knowing she would want to get dressed as soon as possible. Making your way into the bathroom, you shoo Sam out into the hallway and you drop off the clothes and towel and begin to leave her to get dressed. 

“Wait.”

You turn back around at the small voice and see Andrea, who was now in her robe, looking at you with tearful, pleading eyes. 

“Please stay,” she whimpers, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

Considering everything that had just happened, you weren’t that surprised when she asked this of you. 

“Okay, I’ll stay,” you tell her reassuringly, throwing a look back at the brothers that had them guiding a worried Lucas a few steps down the hall to give Andrea some privacy. 

Once the brothers are out of eyesight, Andrea drops her robe. You move to the clothes you had brought as she puts on her underwear, something you both silently agreed she could do herself. Neither of you paying any mind that she was practically naked, you help guide the shirt over her head. After helping her into her sweatpants, you both move to exit the bathroom. 

“(Y/n)?”

Andrea’s voice stops you again. This time it was a little more confident, you’re warming presence calming her for the time being. 

“Thank you.”

* * *

It was finally morning, and as you’d promised, you and the brothers stayed with Andre and Lucas at her father’s house throughout the rest of the night. 

Your eyes were burning, not feeling comfortable going to sleep knowing that the spirit now wanted Andrea. As Dean walked over to where you were rifling through some bookshelves, he looked no better. His feet were dragging and he had trouble containing the yawns that poured out of his mouth. 

“How’s Andrea?” You ask, looking through the many books and documents that sat in the middle of one of the shelves. Surely there had to be a connection between Andrea and Peter if he wanted her dead. All you had to do was find it. 

“She’s obviously shaken, but I’m sure Sammy’s puppy-dog eyes make her feel a little better,” Dean says before joining you, taking a spot in front of the bookshelf you’d not looked through yet. It wasn’t long before something caught his eye. 

“Hey, check this out,” he exclaimed, walking over to you. 

In his hands was an old photo album, it’s label taped to the front cover. 

_ Jake - 12 years old. _

“‘Jake’? Isn’t that the sheriff’s name?” You ask Dean and he nods, opening the album with a concentrated look on his face. Looking through a few pages, the realization hits you like a truck. You rush out of the room, Dean following you with the photo album still in his possession. 

“Andrea, we need you to look at something,” you asserted as Dean dropped the album down onto the table in front of her. 

“Do you recognize the kids in these pictures?”

“What?” Andrea asks, slightly overwhelmed by the sudden question. She looks down at the album wearily. “Um, no, I mean, except that’s my dad right there.”

Moving her finger to another of the children, Andrea adds, “He must have been about 12 in these pictures.”

“Chris Barr’s drowning––the connection wasn’t to Bill Carlton. It must have been to the sheriff,” you tell the brothers and a look of realization forms on Sam’s face as the wheels start to turn. 

“Bill  _ and _ the sheriff––they were both involved with Peter,” he concludes and you nod. 

As Andrea asks what you were speaking about, something catches the corner of Dean’s eye. Following his gaze, you spot Lucas standing in front of the door in a trance-like state. 

“Chris? My dad? What are you talking about?”

Ignoring her question, you try and get Lucas’ attention. 

“Lucas?” You try, but he doesn’t move. “Lucas, what is it?”

Instead of answering you, Lucas opens the door and walks out. He was eerily calm, and that worried all of you. Hustling out the door, you all follow Lucas, who was making his way further and further away from the house. 

“Lucas, honey?”

Suddenly he stops, looking at the mossy ground beneath him before turning to Dean. Although he says nothing, Dean gets the idea that Lucas had brought you out here for a reason. 

Dean shared a look with Lucas before glancing at Andrea. “You and Lucas get back to the house and stay there, okay?” She nods quickly, grabbing Lucas’ hand and tugs him back into the house. 

After speeding to the car to grab some shovels, Sam and Dean begin to dig. You decide to just wait and watch for what they found, wary of how your ribs would feel after partaking in the activity. The boys are only a few scoops of dirt in when Sam’s shovel hits something, a metallic thud signaling that you’d found whatever was buried. 

The brothers crouch down and start to dig with their hands, getting closer and closer to the unknown object. Once it was uncovered, they heave it out of its hole and you recognize what it is once they shake off the dirt. 

“Peter’s bike,” you stated, mind going back to the many pictures of a red bike drawn by Lucas. 

All of a sudden, an unfamiliar arm is tightly wrapped around your middle, causing you to gasp out in pain. And once you realize that the cold feeling on the side of your head was probably a gun, an uneasy feeling fills your body. 

Both of the brothers whip around at the sound of your gasp and are chilled when they meet the sight of the gun pointed at your head. 

“Who are you?” 

Recognizing the voice to be the sheriff’s, you remind yourself that if you tried anything, you’d probably end up dead. 

“Jake, think about this,” Dean eases, as they both drop the bike and slowly raise their hands. “She’s innocent. Just let her go.”

Dean’s pleas only result in Jake squeezing tighter, showing he had no intention of letting you go yet. Sam visibly grits his teeth as you cry out in pain again. 

“Put the gun down, Jake,” Sam orders, but he still doesn’t listen. 

“How did you know that was there?” Jake was shaking with anger and fear as he spoke. 

“What happened? You and Bill killed Peter, drowned him in the lake, and then buried the bike?” Jake breathes heavily at the venom in your voice, not wanting to face the truth. “You can’t bury the truth, Jake. Nothing stays buried.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Jake lies, pressing the gun against your temple even harder. Dean’s breath catches in his throat, struggling to contain his anger. 

“You and Bill killed Peter Sweeney 35 years ago. That’s what the hell we’re talking about,” Dean spits out. 

“Dad!”

Andrea’s unexpected presence thankfully distracts Jake long enough for you to rip yourself out of his grip and throw yourself towards Dean. He gathers you in his arms, stroking the back of your head as he relaxes the slightest bit, grateful you’d gotten away. 

Sam also breathes out a sigh of relief, positioning a hand on your shoulder and gently squeezing. It’s his own silent way of telling you that he was glad you were okay and that he wouldn’t let that happen again. 

“Now you got one seriously pissed-off spirit,” Dean continues, his arms still around you so Jake couldn’t snatch you back up. Andrea looks back and forth, shocked that her father was pointing a gun at the people who had just saved her life hours before. 

“It’s gonna take Andrea, Lucas, everyone you love,” Sam discloses to the still-wired sheriff. “It’s gonna drown them, and it’s gonna drag their bodies God knows where so you can feel the same pain Peter’s mom felt. And then after that, it’s gonna take you, and it’s not gonna stop until it does.”

Even after all of what Sam explained to Jake, his fear and inability to accept what was actually happening acted as a shield. 

“And how do you know that?” 

“Because that’s exactly what happened to Bill Carlton.” You tell him and resist the urge to kick him in the face after he once again denies the truth. 

“Listen to yourselves,” he laughs, “all of you. You’re insane!” 

Dean was past fed up with the sheriff, not appreciating the fact that he was still waving his gun around. 

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think of us, but if we’re gonna bring down this spirit, we need to find the remains, salt them, and burn them into dust.” Looking over at Andrea, you could tell she was getting overwhelmed with all of this information spilling out at once. 

“Now tell me you buried Peter somewhere. Tell me you didn’t just let him go in the lake.”

When Jake says nothing, you scoff and shake your head in disgust. It was no wonder Peter was so mad. While you didn’t condone the deaths he was causing, being drowned in a lake and seemingly forgotten could make anyone want revenge. 

“Dad, is any of this true?” Andrea demands an answer from her father, stunned at the thought of him doing any of this. However, Jake was determined to stay in his daughter’s good graces and come across as innocent for as long as he could. 

“No,” he assures her, “don’t listen to them. They’re liars and they’re dangerous.”

Andrea wanted to believe her father, but her near-death experience was leading her in the other direction. 

“Something tried to drown me. Chris died on that lake.” Andrea was getting more distressed by the second. “Dad, look at me!” 

Jake’s eyes slowly pan up to his daughter, a look of shame and embarrassment cross over his features. 

“Tell me you–” Andrea stumbles over her words, too scared to say them out loud, “–you didn’t kill anyone. The continued silence from her father confirmed the answer to Andrea’s question, and she looked at her father, gaze full of disdain.

“Oh, my God,” she breathes out as her father finally lowers the gun. You let out the breath you seemed to be holding the entire time, finding that not looking down the barrel of a gun relaxing you. 

“Peter was the smallest one. “We always bullied him, but this time…” Jake’s sentence trails off, not wanting to admit what he had done out loud. “... it got rough.”

Everyone is silent as you all wait for him to continue. “We were holding his head under the water. We didn’t mean to, but we held him under too long, and he drowned.” Jake swallows, looking away from his daughter. “We let the body go, and it sank.”

Sharing a look with Dean and Sam, you all get the feeling that getting rid of Peter’s spirit would be harder than you hoped. 

“Oh, Andrea,” Jake lamented, the reality of it all finally hitting him. “We were kids. We were so scared. It was a mistake, but, Andrea, to say that I have anything to do with these drownings, with Chris, because of some ghost––it’s not rational.”

Andrea said nothing back to her father. 

“Alright, listen to me, all of you,” Dean commands with a concerned look on his face. “We need to get you away from this lake as far as we can right now.” 

Andrea was about to answer Dean, but another sight causes her to gasp. Quickly turning around, your heart drops into your stomach when you see Lucas crouched down right on the edge of the lake. 

“Lucas!” Jake calls loudly before you all race towards his unresponsive figure. He was on the edge of the dock, reaching his hand out over the lake. All of you were screaming his name, trying to get him to back away from the deadly lake. You didn’t even blink before Lucas was being pulled in by Peter’s spirit. 

Making it to the lake, you knew what you had to do. While your ribs would reprimand you for it later, that was that last thing you were worried about. Running down the dock, you jump and throw yourself into the water. Hearing two other splashes, you assumed that Sam and Dean had also jumped in. 

Andrea rids herself of her hoodie, ready to join the quest in saving her son. But a stern, but a reassuring request from Sam forced her to stay back on the dock, hopelessly calling out her son’s name.

The water was cold and murky, making it hard to see where Lucas was. Allowing yourself up for air, you call out for Sam and Dean to see if either of them had better luck than you.

“Sam? Dean?”

A shake of their heads had you back underwater, straining your eyes for any sign of Lucas. Your heart was pounding and your ribs were becoming sorer by the second, but that didn’t matter. The next time you exit to the surface of the lake, you are met with the sight of Jake, neck-deep in the water.

“Please, it’s not his fault. It’s mine. Please take me!” 

Dean yells to the sheriff, understanding that he was going to surrender himself for Lucas. It was a noble thing to do, but enough people had died already. 

“Jake, no!”

Jake’s pleading stops abruptly and he begins to descend under the water. Andrea cries out as her father disappears, sinking lower and lower to the bottom of the lake. 

You curse to yourself, dipping back under the water to search for Lucas again. Swimming a little deeper, a smaller figure catches your eye and you rush toward it. Wrapping your arms around him, you make sure he’s secure in before racing to the surface. 

Inhaling deeply when you break the surface, you cradle Lucas into you, nearly smiling when you heard him gasp for air as well. The sharp pain in your side is no match for the relief you felt in your chest to know that Lucas and Andrea would be okay.

* * *

After you happily returned Lucas to your mother, it was time to move on to the next job.

As you walked back to put your bags inside of Baby, you silently thanked Dean for forcing you to take some aspirin as soon as you made it back to the motel. 

Making it to the car, Dean carelessly throws his duffel bag in and waits for you and Sam to do the same before slamming the door shut. The older Winchester had a disappointed look on his face as he searched his jacket pocket for the keys. 

“Look, we’re not gonna save everybody,” Sam commented, also noticing his brother’s unusually dejected mood. Dean nods solemnly. 

“I know.” 

Making eye contact with him, you throw him one of his signature winks, and his lips can’t help but turn up at the action. He presses a quick kiss into your forehead before moving to get into the car. 

“Sam! Dean! (Y/n)!”

Turning at the sound of your name, you're surprised to see Andrea and Lucas jogging up to you. 

“Hey!” Dean greets as you begin to move over towards them. 

“We’re glad we caught you,” Andrea smiles. “We just, um, we made you lunch for the road. Lucas insisted on making the sandwiches himself.”

This pulls a smile from all of you, and you can’t help but smile harder when you hear Lucas’ voice for the first time. 

“Can I give it to them now?” 

Your heart swells and Dean and Sam share a smile at the young boy. 

“Of course,” Andrea replies, kissing Lucas on the top of his head. Lucas holds out the platter to Dean, who graciously takes it from him. 

“Come on, Lucas. Let’s go put this in the car,” Dean grins and he and Lucas walk back to baby together. 

With Lucas busy with Dean, Sam feels it’s the best time to ask Andrea about how she’s doing.

“So, how are you holding up?” Andrea turns to Sam with an uncertain look on her face. She sighs before answering. 

“It’s just gonna take a long time to sort through everything, you know?” Both you and Sam nod understandingly, looking back at Lucas. 

“Andrea, I’m sorry,” you sigh, looking to the ground, ashamed you couldn’t save her father. 

But Andrea only shakes her head saying, “You saved my son. I can’t ask for more than that.” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “Dad loved me,” she assures. “No matter what he did, I just have to hold on to that. 

Dean and Lucas are finishing their conversation as you walk up to them. Dean rises out of the front passenger seat, preparing to say his goodbyes. But before anyone can say anything, Andrea leans into Dean and presses a soft kiss into his lips. 

As Sam’s eyes widen, you bite your lip and look away from the unexpected gesture. Sam catches your discomfort and moves his pinky to stroke the back of your hand to comfort you. You don’t look up at him, but he knows you appreciate it. Andrea pulls away and grins up at Dean. 

Dean looks at you for a split second before looking away and scratching the back of his head. 

“Sam, move your ass,” he sputters out. “You too, sweetheart. We’re gonna run out of daylight before we hit the road.”

You muster up your best smile to give Andrea as you move to get in the backseat. However, before you can open the door, Lucas wraps his short arms around your waist as a goodbye. Laughing, you hug him back, just as tight. 

“Be good, Lucas,” you whisper, and he nods before whispering back, “I will.”

Letting him go, you give him one last wave as you enter the car. Andrea and Lucas watch through the lowered window as Dean revs the engine. You leave the mother and son with a friendly smile, but as soon you are out of their sight, it drops. 

Holding back tears, you wonder how much Dean enjoyed the kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next episode: "Phantom Traveler"


	4. "Phantom Traveler"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episode four is complete! I think this is my favorite one that I've written so far. There are also some flashback in here so I hope you like them. Make sure to pay close attention towards the end! Enjoy!

It was just past midnight when Dean finally located a motel. 

Eyelids heavy and feet dragging, the three of you were far too tired to care that you would all have to share a room. Dean had been driving for hours, none of you sure what the next move would be. John still hadn’t made any direct contact, you didn’t have any new leads, and all you seemed to be doing was wasting gas. 

You were slumped against Dean as you waited for Sam to unlock and open the door to your assigned room. Once you all were inside, Dean departed to the bathroom quickly after announcing that he called dibs on using it first, leaving Sam and yourself to share an eye roll. 

Dropping your bag on one of the two beds, you reach in and pull out your necessary items, ready to take the next turn in the bathroom whenever Dean exits. You were in the middle of resisting the urge to just drop onto the bed and call it a night when Sam interrupts you. 

“So, um, which one of us were you planning on sharing a bed with?” 

Your eyes were wide open now, slightly thrown off by his question. Whether he knew it or not, his facial expression came off as somewhat hopeful, which confused you. 

Did he want to share a bed with you?

“I was just planning on sharing with Dean,” you admitted, and Sam’s hopeful expression fell. “Just to give you some space.” 

Sam shifts uncomfortably, and you try not to notice the way he deflated at your answer. “Yeah, of course. That makes sense.” The tight smile he paired with his nod caused the same question to pop into your head.

Did he want to share a bed with you?

Unfortunately, you had no time to contemplate an answer, Dean trudging out of the bathroom in some shorts and a t-shirt. “This place is better than I thought. I only saw one cockroach in there,” he exclaims, and you almost wanted to just change where you were standing. Deciding against it, you move to the bathroom and take care of everything you needed to in record time. You had no intention of coming across the bug Dean had mentioned and you knew Sam was still waiting. 

Spitting and rinsing the last of the toothpaste in your mouth, the only thing on your mind was the bed that was set a few feet away. When you withdrew from the bathroom, you were met with Dean already sprawled across the bed. You smiled at the sight before returning everything back to your bag. 

Sam was sitting up on the other bed, attention now on the small television perched in the corner of the room. His face was blank as he clicked through the different channels, and it was obvious his mind was somewhere else. Sighing, you somehow will off the urge to sleep and soon find yourself positioned next to him. You were sitting so close that your body was pressed up against his, but Sam was too focused on not letting his eyes trail across the skin that went uncovered by your shorts to notice. 

“You should get some sleep, Sammy,” you whisper, not wanting to wake the sleeping body on the bed next to you. Sam lets out a puff of air through his nose, knowing that was exactly what you were going to say. While you were aware of the fact he wasn’t sleeping well, or honestly at all for that matter, you couldn’t blame him for it. The burning body of Jess and the fact that the monster that killed her was still out there plagued his mind and his nightmares. 

Sam was playing with the buttons of the remote now, and you knew he probably wasn’t going to answer you. 

“At least promise me that you’ll try,” you plead, placing your hands over his to get him to actually look at you. When his eyes met yours, he was struck silent by the amount of compassion and concern in them. The last time you looked at him like that was right before he went off to school, and for a split second, it felt like the two of you were back in that very moment.

* * *

_Sam’s heart squeezed uncomfortably hard in his chest as you watched him load the last of what he was taking to Stanford into the back of one of Bobby’s trucks. He’d lent it to him after hearing about his decision to go, and wanted him to have a reliable vehicle to get him to California._

_Slamming the trunk shut, Sam takes a moment to prepare himself to say goodbye to you._

_John had departed earlier in the morning, probably headed to a bar to day-drink through his rage. He had no intention of sending his son away with a cordial departure, and wouldn’t hear anything when you begged with him to at least stay until Sam left._

_Dean, on the other hand, had already shared his goodbyes with Sam. He now stood a few feet behind you, ready to take the task of consoling you once Sam drove away. He knew you were trying your best to keep the tears and sorrow at bay, but he could see it in your eyes––you were heartbroken._

_Sam turned around slowly, not surprised by the single tear that had already escaped out of your eye. He walked up to you carefully, wiping away the wetness from your cheek, only for it to be replaced with more. Sam huffs out a breath of frustration, tenderly pulling you into his chest. With his arms snuggly wrapped around you, his bends down to press his cheek into the top of your head._

_“I’m proud of you, Sammy,” you choke out through the thickness that’s acquired in your throat. “Even if I don’t look like it.”_

_This drew a sad chuckle from both of you, Sam struggling to control the moisture that was welling up in his eyes. He thought for a moment before he spoke, wondering if what he was about to say would overstep your boundaries._

_“You could come with me, you know? I could find somewhere for you to stay, maybe you could apply too.” When you didn’t say anything, he pulled back, keeping his arms around your body as he looked at you. Your silence almost led him to believe that you were considering it. Running away from this life with him, finally getting out from under John’s thumb. However, Sam knew that you couldn’t do it, even if you wanted to. There was one thing holding you back, and that one thing was standing right behind you._

_“I don’t think so, Sammy,” you say, shaking your head. “You know I can’t leave Dean.”_

_Sam sighed deeply, giving you a sad smile as he pulled you back into him._

_“I know.”_

_After a few more minutes, Sam decides that if you resided in his arms any longer, you would be able to convince him to stay. He parts from you slowly, his heart breaking when he sees your now puffy face wet with more tears._

_“Call when you get there?” You ask, voice breaking slightly, but determined to not let your supportive demeanor fall. Sam nods, promising that calling you would be the first thing he did after he parked the car._

_Backing away from him a few steps, you sniffle a few times. Sam throws a quick nod at Dean as a final goodbye for the time being, before moving to enter the truck. He’s stopped when he feels a warm pair of hands grasping his arm tightly. Looking back at you, he’s met with both concern and compassion. Your bottom lip was quivering making it difficult to say anything, but you forced it out anyway._

_“Love you, Sammy.”_

_A tear finally sneaks it’s way out of Sam’s eye, and he quickly wiped it away with his free hand. He then turns back around to you and grasps the sides of your face with his hands. Pressing a long kiss into your forehead, he whispers it right back._

_“I love you too, (Y/n).”_

_Before you knew it, his hands were pulled away from your face and grasped around the steering wheel as he drove away._

_Looking through the rearview mirror, the last thing he saw was Dean’s arms wrapped around your sobbing figure._

* * *

A timely change of positions by a sleeping Dean jerked Sam from the memory playing in his head. After clearing his throat, Sam hastily answers you, hoping he wasn’t zoned out for too long. 

“Yeah, I’ll try,” he assures you, turning back to the television. You look at him for a moment before nodding and leaving him with a pat on the thigh as you retreat back to the other side of the room. Sam watches you silently as you crawl into bed next to his brother, but not before gifting him with a goodnight kiss on the cheek. 

Dean shifts again, this time with a small smile on his face. Somehow, the older Winchester knew that it was you telling goodnight, which made Sam wonder if that was a normal thing between the two of you. Leaving Sam with one last warming grin, you pull up the hopefully clean sheets on top of you and are asleep in what seemed to be seconds.

* * *

The obnoxiously loud sound of a door opening pries open your eyes, and you make an effort to keep your breathing even. Footsteps echo throughout the quiet room, and there’s no doubt that Dean was awake now also. 

You could see one of his arms inching under his pillow, ready to grab whatever weapon he has under it this time. You're startled when Dean jumps up and puts a protective arm around you. Opening your eyes fully, you breathe out a sigh of relief when you realize that the intruder was only Sam. 

“Morning, sunshines.”

You immediately relax back into the bed, thankful you wouldn’t have to fight off any prowlers in your groggy state. 

“What time is it?” Dean groans out, stretching out his stiff limbs on the bed. You spot the coffee and donuts that were settled in his hands, and at the moment, they were the most glorious sight on this Earth. Dean’s legs were a close second as they spanned down the bed, and you had to remind yourself not to stare. 

“Uh, it’s about 5:45,” Sam answers nonchalantly, not seeming to care that it was much too early for the human brain to be functioning. 

“In the morning?” You ask for clarification, and when Sam answers with a yes, Dean groans again. “Where does the day go?” 

Eyeing Sam warily, Dean asks him a question he already knew the answer to. 

“Did you get any sleep last night?” 

Sam responds swiftly, but the tired look in his eyes tells you differently. 

“Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours.” 

“Liar,” Dean accuses, “‘cause I was up at three, and you were watching a Geroge Foreman infomercial.” 

You give Sam a disapproving look, but he shakes it off with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“Hey, what can I say? It’s riveting TV.” 

Your mind goes back to the conversation you shared with him last night.

“When was the last time you got a good night’s sleep?” You ask Sam, sitting up and leaning your head against Dean’s t-shirt covered back, still not fully ready to function. 

His casual demeanor towards the fact that he was not getting a sufficient amount of rest upset you. And the reason behind it discouraged you even further.

“A little while I guess. It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, it is,” Dean rebuts back hastily, not welcoming Sam’s lack of concern for his nightmare-induced insomnia. 

Sam shakes his head and laughs, amused by the worried look on his brother’s face. “I appreciate your concern,” he acknowledges, but Dean hurries to correct him. 

“Oh, I’m not concerned. It’s your and (Y/n)’s job to keep my ass alive, so I need you sharp.” 

You stifle a laugh at Dean’s comment, knowing he was just kidding. Humor and sarcastic comments were always utilized by Dean to deflect whatever feelings he felt would hold him back. However, all his joking attitude put aside, it was obvious that Dean was truly worried about his brother. 

“But seriously, are you still having nightmares about Jess?” 

You all grow quiet, Sam looking away for a moment before moving to sit on the bed across from you. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, plopping himself down. 

“But it’s not just her. It’s everything,” he adds, handing you and Dean a cup coffee with a dejected look on his face. “I just forgot, you know? This job––man, it gets to you.”

Reveling in the large sip of coffee you take, you silently agree with Sam. No matter how many things you learn or years you hunt, it will always haunt you. The things that you saw every day weren’t something you could just forget about when your head hit the pillow at the end of the day. Illustrations of monsters would always dance around in your subconscious, regardless of how hard you tried to get them to stop. 

One of the many disadvantages of being a hunter.

“You can’t let it,” Dean instructs. “You can’t bring it home like that.”

You rolled your eyes at the man that sat next to you as Sam asks, “So what? All this––it never keeps you up at night?” Dean lied, shaking his head no. 

“You’re never afraid?”

A second shake of Dean’s head and a “No, not really,” from him had you reaching behind him and underneath the pillow he was previously sleeping on.

Dean grows silent as you pull out the large knife that resided under it, trying to think of an excuse. 

“That is not fear,” he quips, gently taking it from you. “That is precaution.”

All Sam could do was huff out a laugh. “All right, whatever,” he rasps out, “I’m too tired to argue.”

You lean back onto Dean, this time on his shoulder. Unknowingly to you or Dean, Sam’s eyes are glued to the interaction. He stares at the way your cheek is squished up against Dean’s broad shoulder and how one of your hands is curled around his forearm. The tiniest of pangs in his chest is interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing. 

Sitting up straight, you allow Dean to reach for his phone. He quizzically looks at the number, before sending an incredulous gaze to you and his brother. Flipping open the phone, he answers with an unsure tone. 

“Hello?”

He is silent for a few seconds, listening to the person on the other side of the phone. He shakes his head at the two of you, still not sure of who was on the line. 

After a few more seconds, he finally nods. “Oh, right, yeah, up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania,” he says, and you conclude that he was talking to Jerry Panowski. John, Dean, and yourself had helped him a few years ago.

“It’s not back, is it?” Dean asks, and you hope it wasn’t. The last thing you wanted to deal with was a poltergeist. 

Dean is silent again as he listens to Jerry, before asking him, “What is it?” 

It was only minutes before you were changing clothes and packing up. Jerry wanted to meet in person to discuss the issue, which made you think it was rather serious. As Dean was busy packing the rest of his clothes into his bag, you giggle, noticing that his hair was sticking up in every other direction. He sends you a confused look but instead of answering him, you walk over to him and run your fingers through it. He pauses and tips his head down to make it easier for you, biting back a sound of content as your fingers run against his scalp. Once it was tamed enough for your liking, you leave him a quick kiss on the cheek and take Baby’s keys from Dean so you could return your belongings to her trunk. 

“What?” Dean asks Sam, his interests peaked by the unreadable look he was receiving from his brother. Sam shakes his head before moving to follow you outside, face burning due to the fact that he was caught. 

“Nothin’,” was all he mutters as he swiftly leaves the room, coffee and donuts long forgotten.

* * *

“Thanks for making the trip so quick,” Jerry states as he guides you through the aircraft workshop. “I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around.” You shake your head, letting him know that it was no problem. You wanted to help out any and everyone who needed it. 

“(Y/n), Dean, and your dad really helped me out,” Jerry adds, motioning to the two of you walking behind him. 

Sam nods, remembering how Dean had mentioned it on the drive over. “Yeah, Dean told me. It was a poltergeist?” 

You look around the facility like a lost child, enamored by all of the unfamiliar machines and different buttons. Suddenly an unwelcomed voice interrupts the conversation between Sam and Jerry. 

“‘Poltergeist’? I loved that movie!” A man calls out, gaining the attention of his boss. 

“Hey, nobody’s talking to you,” he snaps. “Keep walking.” You raise your eyebrows at his response and chalk up his irritant attitude up to the stress generated from whatever the problem was. From what you could remember, Jerry was an easy going guy, only being stern and serious when completely necessary. 

“Damn right it was a poltergeist,” Jerry resumes. “Practically tore our house apart. Tell you something––if it wasn’t for you, (Y/n), and your dad, I probably wouldn’t be alive.” While you decide to stay humble, Dean takes another route, sending a cocky smile to his younger brother. Rolling your eyes, you nudge him with your shoulder to remind him to behave. 

Jerry then turns to Sam. 

“Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?” 

You looked at Sam and made sure he was alright to answer, knowing that subject was still all too raw for him to discuss aloud. Sam notices and sends you a small smile before answering. 

“Yeah, I was. I’m…” he trails off to think for the best way to explain without revealing too much information. “...taking some time off.” 

Jerry took the spoon-fed answer without any complaints. “Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time.” 

Sam was surprised he didn’t stop walking out of shock, seeing as this was news to him. He tried to mask the somewhat stunned look on his face, but you and Dean saw it anyway. 

“He did?”

“Yeah, you bet he did.”

Jerry answers in a casual manner, having no idea how bizarre the statement sounded to the younger Winchester. The idea of his father talking him up to anyone was a fact he could barely wrap his head around. Most of the time, John was more likely to berate him for something that went wrong or yell at him for not following orders. 

“Oh, hey, I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn’t,” Jerry says, looking back at Dean, who shifts uncomfortably at the mention of his father. “How’s he doing, anyway?”

“He’s, um, wrapped up in a job right now,” you answer hesitantly, not sure of what else you could say. 

“Well, we’re missing the old man,” Jerry announced, turning around to walk backward. “We get Sam. Even trade, huh?” 

This pulls a laugh from the three of you, but Sam’s seemed to be forced. “No, not by a long shot,” he answers, rolling his eyes. 

As the conversation fizzles out, Jerry leads you to a different room in the facility. “I got something I want you guys to hear.” 

You’re now sitting in front of a desk as Jerry sat on the other side, ready to hear and decipher what he was about to play for you. 

“I listened to this,” Jerry starts as he inserts a DVD into the player. “Well, it sounded like it was up your alley. Normally I wouldn’t have access to this. It’s the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia Flight 2485. It was one of ours.”

Jerry finishes speaking just as the DVD begins to play. The voices that played were indistinct, but you could still make out that they were panicked. An alarm was blaring in the background, and you could only imagine how terrified the people in the plane must have been. A cracking sound then interrupts the white noise before a low growling takes over. 

You share a confused look with both of the brothers, not having any ideas as to what could be making that type of sound. All you did know is that whatever it was couldn’t have been human. 

Once the audio cuts out, Jerry clarifies the entire situation. 

“Took off from here, crashed about 200 miles south. Now they’re saying mechanical failure. The cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over 100 people on board, only seven got out alive.” Dean’s eyebrows raise at this information. 

“The pilot was one,” Jerry continues. His name is Chuck Lambert. He’s a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh, he’s pretty broken up about it, like it was his fault.”

This wasn’t shocking to you, seeing that the man had no other explanation for the plane’s failure. Unfortunately, the only information he had was that he was flying the plane when it went down, and 93 people were dead.

“You don’t think it was?” Sam asks, and you start to understand why Jerry had called you for your help. 

Jerry shakes his head, “No, I don’t.”

“Jerry, we’re gonna need passenger manifests, a list of survivors––”

“Right,” Dean interrupts, “and any way we can take a look at the wreckage?” It was a loaded question, but that was the only way you would get any reliable evidence.

“The other stuff is no problem, but the wreckage––guys, the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I’ve got that kind of clearance.” 

You share a knowing look with Sam when Dean shakes off Jerry’s concern. 

“No problem,” he insisted, and you had a feeling he was already forming a plan in his head. God only knows what it could be.

* * *

Not a word had been said between Sam and yourself as you waited outside the store that Dean was busying himself inside of. He’d left you with a quick wink and a promise that he would be back in no time. For the first ten minutes, you and Sam stayed in the car together, working on deciphering the recording given to you by Jerry. You ignored the way your heart sped up each time you and Sam accidentally brushed hands and finally found some information that you deemed pivotal to solving the case. Now here you were, twenty agonizing minutes later and counting, leaning against Baby next to Sam.

Another wave of uncomfortable awkwardness had fallen over the two of you again, making you wish you’d gone inside with Dean. You’d hoped that Sam being back for the past couple of weeks would dissipate the subtle tension between the two of you, but it was still alive and well. 

“Do you think it would be different?” 

Sam’s voice catches you off guard, and you look to him for clarification. He turns to lean on his side, eyes now boring into yours. He bites his lip before speaking and you could tell something was bothering him. 

“Do you think it would be different if you went with me? To Stanford?”

It had been on his mind since last night. 

The resurfacing of the bitter memory was one of the reasons he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, but he would never admit that out loud. When he wasn’t staring at Geroge Foreman infomercials or shaking away the haunting images of monsters, he was imagining what it would have been like if you’d gotten in that truck with him. 

Would you have been happier in California? Would you have been happier living a normal life? Would you have been happier with him?

“Probably,” you nod, the ground beneath you becoming more and more interesting by the minute. “But honestly, I don’t think that was ever an option, Sammy. John would have never let me leave. Plus, I needed to stay with your brother.” 

“Why?”

Sam’s tone came out rougher than he expected, but you could see in his eyes that he didn’t mean for it to. It was always known to you that Sam had a problem with how you let John control you and his brother, but you especially. You were just like Dean, always waiting for an order and carrying it out without argument. 

You look up at him again, but don’t get the chance to answer him when a jingling sound alerted you that Dean had exited the store. If he was curious as to why you and Sam were standing so close together, he didn’t say anything. Pushing away your intense conversation with Sam for another time, you raise your arms in exasperation at the older Winchester. 

“You’ve been in there forever.”

Dean only shrugs before holding up three newly-made false ID’s. 

“You can’t rush perfection, sweetheart.”

Sam’s eyes widen slightly when he reads the title of the card, not feeling completely comfortable with this idea. 

“Homeland Security?” He asks his brother, as you both take your respective badges. “That’s pretty illegal, even for us.” 

As you all move to get inside the car, Dean nods his head. He was seemingly unconcerned over the possibility of getting caught impersonating Homeland Security officers. 

“Yeah, well, it’s something new, you know? People haven’t seen it a thousand times,” he informs you and you had to admit that he wasn’t wrong. Entering back into the car, Dean asked for what you and Sam discovered while he was busy. Leaning up between the brothers as Sam opens his laptop, you begin to explain to Dean what you’d found. 

“Well, there’s definitely E.V.P. on the cockpit voice recorder,” you tell him, setting your chin on his shoulder as he looks at the computer. 

“Yeah?” He wonders aloud and you nod. 

“Listen.”

You all fall silent as Sam plays the recording, and for a few moments as dead noise fills the car. Dean’s eyebrows then raise when a ghoulish voice croaks out, “No survivors.” 

“‘No survivors’?” He asks, coming to the same conclusion that you and Sam had when you heard it 10 minutes ago. “What’s that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors.” 

“Got us,” Sam mutters, shrugging his shoulders. You sit back in your seat, wondering what the hell you were dealing with this time. 

“So, what are you guys thinking? A haunted flight?” You propose, nothing else coming to mind. 

At least, nothing else that you’ve dealt with before. 

“There’s a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers,” Sam adds, twisting his body to look at you and Dean. “Or remember flight 401?”

“Right,” Dean nods, “the one that crashed, the airline salvaged its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights.”

“Maybe we got a similar deal.”

Listening to Dean describe previously haunted rights, you agreed that that’s what had to be behind the plane crashes. There didn’t seem to be another explanation.

“So, survivors––which one do you want to talk to first?” Dean questions, pulling out the list of the names of the people lucky enough to survive the tragedy. 

Sam points out a name you had talked about earlier. “Third on the list––Max Jaffey.”

“Why him? Dean asks, and you respond quickly, wanting to meet with him as soon as possible. 

“For one, he’s around here. And two, if anyone saw anything weird, he did,” you tell Dean and he looks at you for clarification. “What makes you say that?” 

Sam takes the task of answering. 

“Well, we spoke to his mother, and she told us where to find him.”

* * *

You didn’t expect to visit a psychiatric hospital today, but here you were walking in the hospital’s yard with a shaken Max. 

“I don’t understand,” he cautioned, “I already talked with Homeland Security.”

At first, you didn’t think that Max would buy that you were real agents. Nonetheless, he seemed so out of it, he couldn’t really tell the difference. 

“Right. Some new information has come up,” Dean informs and uncertain Max. “So if you could just answer a couple of questions…”

“Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything unusual?” Sam questions him in a careful tone.

“Like what?”

Max shits uncomfortably, which already told you that he knew something. All you had to do now was convince him to tell you. 

“Strange lights, weird noises, maybe…voices,” you try, and Max’s apprehensive gaze falls on you for a moment before he shakes his head. You’ve walked across the lawn now, and you all take a seat at one of the open tables. 

“No, nothing.”

Dean obviously wasn’t convinced that Max was telling the truth, and it was apparent as Dean settled an intimidating gaze on the younger man who now sat next to him. 

“Hmm. Mr. Joffey––”

“Jaffey.” 

Max quickly corrects Dean, but he pays no mind to it. 

“Jaffey. You checked yourself in here, right? Can I ask why?”

Max took a deep breath before answering. “I was a little stressed. I survived a plane crash,” he scoffs. 

“And that’s what terified you? That’s what you were afraid of?” Dean presses on, and Max begins to feel provoked by the intrusive questions. There was no way you all would believe what he thought he had seen. 

“I-I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he voices, and while you probably should stop Dean, both you and Sam stay silent as he continues to push Max. 

“I think maybe you did see something up there,” Dean accuses with absolutely no sympathy. “We need to know what.”

Max shakes his head again, still not admitting to what he saw. “No, I was delusional––seeing things.”

“He was seeing things,” Dean repeats, giving you a tired look. He was getting fed up with Max’s denial, so you decided to take a go at coaxing the truth out of Max. 

“It’s okay,” you soothe, hoping your softer demeanor would persuade him to talk. “Then just tell us what you thought you saw, please.”

Max sits back in his chair, still thinking that you wouldn’t believe what he was about to say. 

“There was… this… man,” he begins, “and, uh, he had these eyes. These, uh,” Max pauses, and you all listen on the edge of your seat for what he was about to say next. “Black eyes. And I saw him––I _thought_ I saw him…” 

Max trails off again and Dean encourages him to continue. 

“He opened the emergency exit,” Max finally reveals, looking at you. “But that’s impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There’s something like two tons of pressure on that door. 

You nod your head, confirming that he was correct as Sam asks for more information. 

“This man––did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly. It would look something like a mirage,” he tells Max, who somewhat smiles at the absurdity of Sam’s question. 

“What are you crazy?” Max asks, and Sam almost looks offended. He could’ve asked Max the same thing given where you were at the moment. “He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me.”

The three of you look at each other again, the invalidation of your idea that it could have been a spirit generating more concern that you were comfortable with. 

After finishing up with Max, the next person you decided to meet with was the wife––now widow––of one of the flight victims. 

“Here we are. Geroge Phelps, seat 20C,” Sam announces as Dean pulls up just outside of the house. You all look through the lowered windows of Baby, Dean voicing the thought that had been on his mind since leaving the psychiatric hospital. 

“Man, I don’t care how strong you are,” he announces as you all get out of the car. “Even yoked up on PCP or something, no way you can open up an emergency door during a flight.” 

“Not if you’re human,” Sam adds, as you all lean against the car. “But maybe this guy Geroge was something else some kind of creature, maybe, in human form.” 

Dean squints at the house before asking Sam, “Does that look like a creature’s lair to you?” Looking at the house behind you, you had to admit that it looked the furthest thing from it. If anything, you wouldn’t be surprised if you saw something similar in _The Waltons._

After telling the woman that you were Homeland Security officers and that you had a few more questions that would help with any advancement in the investigation, she let you inside. Now you were sitting across from her in her living room, easing into what you knew would be a difficult conversation. 

“This is your late husband?” Sam asks, picking up and viewing a picture that was placed in front of him. 

She nods solemnly as she answers. 

“Yes, that was my George.”

You give her a sympathetic smile about her loss, containing the confusion over why your first thought was how you would feel if Sam or Dean died. They weren’t your husbands, and you weren’t even dating, so why were you thinking about them?

“And you said he was a dentist?” Dean asks Mrs. Phelps, pulling you back into the conversation. She nods again, and you were stumped when you still hadn’t found anything that would lead you to believe that Geroge was a psychotic mass-murderer. 

“He was headed to a convention in Denver,” she informs you. “Do you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that…” She was beginning to tear up, the thickening of her voice stopping her sentence. 

“How long were you married?” You ask, happy when you saw that a small smile appeared on her face at the memory of her relationship with her husband. You were so focused on the woman sitting across from you, you missed how two other pairs of eyes flicked to you when the word “married” came out of your mouth. 

“13 years.” 

“In all that time, did you ever notice anything….” Sam trails off, not wanting to offend or scare her in any way. “...strange about him, anything out of the ordinary?”

“Well,” she pauses for a moment to think, and you were finally about to receive some helpful information. 

“Uh, he had acid reflux, if that’s what you mean,” she finishes, and you hope that you didn’t visibly deflate as she spoke. Dean’s eyes slowly plan over to Sam’s as you blow out a heavy breath. You leave the woman with sympathetic smiles, masking your disappointment. 

“I mean, it goes without saying. It just doesn’t make any sense,” Sam exasperated as you walked down the stairs and back to the car. 

“A middle-aged dentist with an ulcer isn’t exactly evil personified,” you huffed out, frustrated by the minimal amount of information you had collected throughout the day. 

The last thing you needed to do was be stuck here for a week, working in circles. There were other jobs out there that needed to be done, and not to mention that John was still missing. 

“What we need to do is get inside that NTSB warehouse, check out the wreckage,” Dean declared, and Sam nodded. 

“Okay,” he agrees, but another problem crosses your mind. Luckily, it would be too hard to solve. 

“If we’re gonna go that route, we’d better look the part.”

* * *

The reasoning behind why you chose to wear a fitted skirt and low-heels instead of slacks and flats was beyond you, and you were starting to regret the decision. 

Sure, looking professional was your main goal, but you didn’t think about the fact that you may have to make a run for it at any point during your investigation of the warehouse. Hopefully, the skirt wouldn’t cause too much trouble as you lied your way into the facility. 

As you were focused on smoothing out the small number of wrinkles that had found their way into the skirt, Dean and Sam emerged from the door in matching suits. You laughed light-heartedly at the sight, not used to seeing them, especially Dean, so dressed up. You had to admit that both of them looked better than good, and your breath hitched as they got closer and closer. 

“Well, look at you two,” you exclaim, immediately catching their attention. However, your smile quickly falls when you spot the unreadable looks on their faces. Sam just stood there, eyes wide and bottom lip slightly dropping open. Dean’s eyebrows lifted while his tongue reached out to wet his lips.

“What’s wrong?” You ask the brothers, who still have not said a word. Your heart drops in disappointment as you assume that they were staring at you because in their eyes you looked awful. Or weird. Or both.

“Should I go change?” You question quietly, looking to the ground, not masking your embarrassment very well. 

Dean took a second to let his eyes run over your bottom half before finally speaking. 

“God, no, sweetheart,” he breathes out, and you are shocked to see a cheeky smirk gracing his perfect features. “Why don’t you dress like this more often?” 

Rolling your eyes, you walk up and straighten the tie he probably rushed to put on. “Because, working with you, there’s no doubt I’ll be getting into trouble, and I can’t run away from the police in a tight skirt,” you tease, ignoring how his eyes subconsciously fill with what could be mistaken as lust as you peek up at him. His tongue poking out to lick his lips again forces you to clear your throat and look away. 

Letting his tie fall, you couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face as you realized Sam’s tie was crooked as well. He’s almost shocked when you shift over and straighten his. 

“Thanks,” he rasps out, and you pretended to not be taken aback by how husky his voice had become. 

“No problem, Sammy,” you nearly whisper, before reluctantly backing away from him slowly to enter the car. 

While Sam tried to hide the fact that he was staring at your ass as you walked away, Dean had not one ounce of shame. Reaching the door, you turn around and motion to the car. 

“You guys coming?” 

They both nod, the dryness of their mouth making it too difficult to speak. This wasn’t the first time you’d rendered the brothers speechless. Although, something about this occasion felt a little different.

* * *

While your face was stone cold as you flashed your badge to the security guard, you were freaking out on the inside. Homeland Security was probably the most illegal official you’d ever impersonated. You’d never even pretended to be a fed, John and Dean always taking that task while you stayed back and collected research. 

You silently let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when the man nodded, allowing you access to the evidence warehouse. Dean fought to hold back a smug smile as the three of you made your way to the metal doors. Sam opens the door, motioning for you to go inside first. Ignoring the little tingle that erupted on your skin when Sam’s hand barely grazed your back, you swiftly walked through the door. 

As you enter the warehouse, your eyes run over the many pieces of singed metal and shattered equipment. They didn’t have much to piece back together, but this was better than nothing. Walking further and further into the organized wreckage, Dean pulls out his EMF meter. 

“What is that?” Sam asks, not recognizing the device in his brother’s hands. 

“It’s an EMF meter,” Dean answers, putting one of the earbuds in his ear. “It reads electromagnetic frequencies.”You stifle a laugh at the look Sam sends Dean. 

“Yeah, I know what an E.M.F. Meter is,” he grumbles, “but why does that one look like a busted-up walkman?”

Dean glances down at the meter in his hands as you answer, “‘Cause that’s what he made it out of.”

“It’s homemade,” Dean adds, his dopey yet proud grin pulling a slight smile from yourself. Sam nods as if he’s interacting with a small child, trying not to grimace at the state of the poorly-made gadget. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” Sam expresses, and the noble look on Dean’s face slowly falls, finally understanding that Sam was not a fan. Rubbing your hand on his shoulder to console him, you slowly turn him around and urge him to keep walking. 

“Don’t take it personally, De. I think it’s cute,” you cooed, and his smile quickly reappears. Sam rips his eyes away from your hand on Dean, not allowing himself to get jealous over something he had no reason to be jealous over. 

The three of you continue to look around, Dean holding out the E.M.F. Meter to see if anything spiked the device. So far, everything looks pretty normal––or as normal as the wreckage from a plane crash can. As the minutes ran on, you were starting to think you wouldn’t find anything. 

But when you are able to hear the clicking of the meter from where you were standing, you all knew you’d finally been given a break. Walking up next to Dean, you're met with the sight of a strange substance smeared on the debris in front of you.

“Check out the emergency door handle,” Dean calls out, and Sam steps closer. Leaning in, you watch as Dean’s fingers carefully brush over the substance, rubbing the residue in between his fingers. “What is this stuff?”

Sam pulls out a small baggy and knife, reaching over to scrape the unidentified substance in order to save and analyze it later. 

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Sam slips the bag and knife back into his pocket while you move away, hoping to see if there were any additional clues of evidence you could sneak away with you. Looking over a few tangled wires, you freeze when the faint sound of many footsteps alarm you that your time was probably up. 

“Guys, I think we have company,” you warn, looking towards the entrance of the warehouse. Their heads snap over to you and then the door, all of you silently agreeing that you needed to get the hell out of there. 

The skirt that hugged your hips and bottom made it difficult to keep up with the brothers, and your shoe choice was not helping either. Although their longer legs give them an advantage, you’re able to stay with the brothers, eventually ending up outside of the facility. The three of you are up against a large metal container, Dean peeking around the side to see if you had any chance of being caught. Once he declares the coast is clear, you move swiftly yet carefully, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourselves. 

As you were trying to slip away without being seen, a loud alarm started blaring, signaling they had become aware of your unauthorized admission. Your swift walk picks up to a rushed jog, and you curse to yourself when you come upon a fence. 

“Seriously?”

Dean rips off his jacket and throws it over the top of the fence, hoping it would prevent him from getting scratched by the spikes. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he tells you, cupping his hands so he could boost you over. Knowing you didn’t have much time to rebut before security was racing around the corner, you huff out a breath and hurry to throw your heels over the fence.

Sam and Dean both work to boost you over, and as you swing one leg over the top, a sickening rip fills your ears. Hopping back to the ground, you look down at your skirt. You were met with the sight of a freshly made rip, but luckily Sam and Dean were too busy climbing over to notice. Slipping your heels back on, you wordlessly pray that you would be able to get away with hiding it until you could change into something else. 

After a few minutes of jogging and darting away from anyone who looked like security, you were back in Jerry’s office as he analyzed the substance you found in the warehouse. 

You sat in the chair next to Sam, Dean standing behind the two of you. Forgetting the rip that resided in your skirt, you crossed one leg over the other, settling back in your chair. 

Sam’s eyes travel over the newly exposed skin, and he shifts in his chair at the sight. He can’t seem to pull his eyes away until Jerry speaks, and he hopes that you hadn’t seen him staring. 

“Huh.”

All of you look at the man, waiting for him to explain. 

“This stuff is covered in sulfur,” he tells you, and a look over worry crosses over your face as you uncross your legs and sit up. 

“You’re sure?” You ask, and Jerry nods. 

He tells you to look for yourself before there is a loud crash outside the door. The crash is followed by yelling and Jerry sighs, moving to the door. “If you all will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire,” he grumbles, leaving the room. Once Jerry is gone, you stand up and make your way around to the other side of the desk. Unknowingly to you, both of the brothers follow your ass with their eyes, hurrying to look away when you are facing them again. 

Leaning on the desk, your eyebrows furrow at the picture produced from the microscope.

“You know, there’s not too many things that leave behind a sulfuric residue,” you tell the brothers, swallowing uneasily at the words that came out of Sam’s mouth. 

“Demonic possession?” Sam proposes, and Dean nods. 

“It would explain how a mortal man would have the strength to open up an emergency hatch,” Dean claims, walking over to the other side of the desk with you. He positions himself over your shoulder, back pressing into your shoulder. 

“If the guy was possessed, it’s possible,” Sam shrugs, looking at his brother. 

“Yeah, but this goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup,” Dean states. “I mean, it’s one thing to possess a person, but to take them down an entire airplane.” You shake your head at the thought of the demon doing this, but you weren’t surprised. 

“You ever heard of something like this before?” Sam wonders, and while Dean shakes his head no, you stayed completely silent.

Little did the brothers know, this wasn’t your first experience with a demon. However, the experience probably isn’t what anyone would expect.

* * *

_1981_

_Although you never said––or babbled–– anything to the man with the black eyes, he knew you listened to him whenever he spoke._

_He usually came at night, seeing no other time to carry out his assignment with you only being a toddler and your parents practically never leaving your side. The fact that you never screamed when he appeared in your room and walked up to your crib or cried the first time his eyes turned black gave him a comforting sense of nostalgia._

_Throughout the many nights he came, he told you stories._

_Horrible haunting stories of horrible haunting things that no two-year-old (or anyone) should ever be exposed to. He always sat in the rocking chair across from you, his voice low as he rambled on about any and everything he felt you should know. You always sat quiet and wide-eyed, clutching your blanket between your tiny fist, hanging onto his every word._

_On the rarest of occasions, you would nod off if the story was too long for your little heart to take. Whenever this occurred, he would halt his storytelling and rise out of his seat. Covering you with your small blanket, he left you with a delicate, “Sweet dreams, little one,” and sent himself on his way._

_While you found yourself sad that he wasn’t there to greet you whenever your eyes opened the next morning, the feeling never stayed because he always came back._

_Always._

* * *

“So, every religion in every world culture has a concept of demons and demonic possession, right? I mean, Christian, Native American, Hindu––you name it.”

Looking up from the book your eyes were straining over, you nod. 

“Yeah, but none of them describe anything like this,” Dean states, looking up from the book he was also perched over. You look over the many drawings and photos of demons pinned to the wall behind Sam as he speaks, silently noting how none of them looked like the one that told you stories every night. 

“That’s not exactly true,” Sam informs. “According to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and man-made. One causes earthquakes, another causes disease.”

Finally ripping your gaze away from the pictures, you shift your position on the bed, looking to Sam. 

“And this one causes plane crashes?” You ask, and he shrugs. 

Dean shakes his head before standing up, the spot next to you now empty. “All right, so, what? We have a demon that’s evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?”

“Yeah.” Sam nods solemnly, looking back at his laptop. “You know, who knows how many planes it’s brought down before this one?”

The chilling thought that this demon or any other could be behind more than a few plane crashes causes uncomfortable goosebumps to rise over your skin. The demon you were dealing with now was nothing like the one from your past, and you had to remember that if he got the chance, it was likely that outside of your bedroom, he was committing just as many sickening acts. He still was a demon after all. 

Dean laughing bitterly breaks you out of your thoughts as you look to him with concern. 

“What?” You ask, and he takes a second to answer. 

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he begins. “This isn’t our normal gig. I mean demons, they don’t want anything––just death and destruction for its own sake. This is _big._ ” Dean stops himself, pausing for another moment. 

“I wish Dad was here.”

Your jaw clenches too tight to speak, the reminder that John was still somewhere out there alone rendering you silent. You didn't even know if he was alive. He would know what to do. He would have the answers, and you assumed that this case would go a lot smoother than it was now if he was here with you. 

But even though he wasn’t, you could still hear his voice in the back of your head. 

_‘You do the job and get it done. No matter what.’_

“Yeah, me too,” Sam sighs, and you found yourself discouraged by the look of disappointment on each of the brother’s faces. Before you can comfort either one of them, Dean’s cell phone rings. 

Answering, you quickly realize it was Jerry on the other side. After a few more seconds of Dean’s silence, his facial expression changes into a look between bewilderment and exasperation. 

“What––Jerry, I’m sorry. What happened?”

Both you and Sam snap your heads to Dean and judging by the combination of the look on Dean’s face and his consolation of Jerry, you knew something was wrong. 

Dean asks where the incident happened and something about irony before telling Jerry to hang in there and that you all would catch up with him later. As Dean hangs up the phone, you ask the question that has been begging to leave your mouth ever since Dean picked up the phone. 

“Another crash?”

Dean nods and prompts you all to head over, wanting to get there as soon as possible. But before he can move to head to the door, Sam implores about where you were headed. 

“Where?”

The single word that comes out of Dean’s mouth almost forced a sarcastic chuckle out of you. 

“Nazareth.”

* * *

After sneakily inspecting the crash scene, you were right back to standing in Jerry’s office as he once again analyzed another sample you’d brought for him. 

“Sulfur?” Dean asks from over Jerry’s shoulder. The older man nods and Deanexhales heavily. “Well, that’s great.”

“All right, that’s two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert,” you announce to the room. “The demon sounds like it was after him.” 

“With all due respect to Chuck,” Sam begins from behind Jerry’s desk, “if that’s the case, that would be good news.” 

Although it sounded cruel, you couldn’t help but agree with him. If the demon was after Chuck and Chuck was now dead, case closed. Right?

“What’s the bad news?” Dean asks his brother, bracing himself for whatever Sam was about to hit everyone with. 

“Chuck’s plane went down exactly 40 minutes into flight. And get this––so did Flight 2485.”

As you and Dean process the information just revealed to you, Jerry can’t help but ask for some clarification. 

“40 minutes? What does that mean?”

Dean takes the task of answering Jerry, stating that, “It’s biblical numerology. You know, Noah’s ark, it rained for 40 days. The number means death.” The look on Jerry’s face at Dean’s explanation almost distracts you from what Sam had to say. 

“I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly 40 minutes in.” 

While you weren’t shocked that the demon had been busy, data revealed by Sam still shot your eyebrows up to your hairline. 

“Any survivors?” 

Sam shakes his head at your question. 

“No. Or not until now, at least––not until Flight 2485 for some reason. And the cockpit voice recorder––remember what the E.V.P. said?”

“No survivors,” you repeat, finally understanding why Chuck was dead. “It’s going after all the survivors. It’s trying to finish the job.” 

Although there was no doubt in your mind that you could save the rest of the survivors from the violent death of a plane crash, you also knew that it would be easier said than done.

* * *

Dean was speeding down the road as you finished up with some of the survivors on the phone, working on convincing them to avoid any flying in the near future. Or at least until you took care of the demon. 

“Really? Well, thank you for taking our survey,” you told them in the most professional voice you could muster. “And if you do plan to fly, please don’t forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks.”

Hanging up the phone, you sit up between the brothers. 

“That takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They’re not flying anytime soon.” 

Sam nods, checking off two of the last three names on the list.

“So our only wildcard is the flight attendant Amanda Walker,” Dean stated, his eyes flicking back and forth from the paper in Sam’s hand and the road. You nod, remembering her as the only person that you could not reach.

“Right. Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at 8:00. It’s her first night back on the job.” 

Dean lets out an irritated sigh towards the information just spilled to him, grumbling out, “That sounds like just our luck.”

“Dean, this is a 5-hour drive, even with you behind the wheel,” Sam reminds his brother, but Dean doesn’t seem to be worried about it, seeing as he instructs you to call the woman again. 

“I already left her three voice messages,” you tell him. “She must have turned her cellphone off.” 

Sam quickly looks at his watch before throwing his arms down into his lap out of frustration. 

“God, we’re never gonna make it,” he huffed, but a shake of the head and determined look from Dean gave you the tiniest glimmer of hope. 

“We’ll make it,” was all Dean said as his foot pressed farther into the accelerator. You sat back and gripped the leather around you a little tighter, now sure that you would get to the airport in a timely manner.

* * *

Ignoring the perplexed look from the other airline patrons around you, the brothers and yourself swiftly jogged through one of the automatic entrances to the airport. Your eyes bounced around for any sign of Amanda as you ran to the electronic boards that listed off flight departures and their times. You then look to the boards and point towards the one right above you, spotting the desired flight. 

“Right there. They’re boarding in 30 minutes,” you read off, and Dean nods his head. 

“Okay. We still have some cards to play,” he insisted before muttering something about needing to find a phone. After a few moments of searching, Dean’s eyes lit up as one finally caught his eye. Rushing over, you and Sam watch as Dean picks up the device and starts speaking into it. 

“Hi. Gate 13.” There is a beat of silence before he speaks again. “I’m trying to contact an Amamda Walker. She’s a flight attendant on Flight, um…”

“424,” you whisper, helping him out. He gifts you with a quick wink before turning back to the phone. As the seconds continue to tick by, you all become somewhat antsy. Convincing Amanda to stay off of the flight was the best way to protect her, at least for right now. Then you could deal with the demon without worrying about any more casualties––hopefully. 

As soon as Dean pipes up, you figured Amanda was now on the other end of the phone. 

“Miss Walker,” Dean greets. “Hi, this is Dr. James Headfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here.” 

Disregarding the apprehensive look from you and his brother, Dean continues on with his briskly formed lie. 

“Nothing serious––just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so––”

Dean grows silent again, and your pointed look becomes the slightest bit sharper as his mouth falls open, finding himself at a loss of words. In his opinion, the story he came up with was pretty impressive. And on the spot? That had to be a new record. 

“You what?” He finally says, and you look at Sam, getting the feeling that Dean’s plane was falling out from under him. 

He then begins to stutter through an explanation and you attempt not to roll your eyes at how quickly everything was going wrong. 

“Uh, w-well, there must be some mistake.”

Dean listened to Amanda for a moment, spinning around to switch sides. You and Sam followed the phone, squishing up against each other to try and hear what she was saying. A few more seconds later, Dean shrugged his shoulders before telling Amanda, “Guilty as charged.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you weren’t even going to try to figure out what trick Dean has pulled out of his hat next. 

“He’s really sorry,” Dean swore, hoping that would be good enough to keep her occupied. You heard Amanda’s voice for a few seconds before Dean talks again. “Yes, but he really needs to see you tonight, so––” Dean stops short of finishing his sentence, Amanda interrupting him. 

“Don’t be like that. Come one, the guy’s a mess. Really, it’s pathetic” Dean attempts, adding a few more encouragements for good measure. Unfortunately, you’d assumed that none of it had worked in your favor when Dean was left begging for Amanda to listen to him. 

Dropping the phone down from his ear, Dean slams the phone back into its place. 

“Damnit!” He exclaims, already knowing that Amanda had to be getting on the plane right this second. You thought for a moment at what the next step was. When only one thing crossed your mind, you inwardly groaned, knowing it was probably your only chance of saving anyone. 

“Alright, it’s time for plan ‘B’,” you declared to Sam and Dean. “We’re getting on that plane.” 

While Sam didn’t seem all that against, Dean sent you a bewildered look. “Now, just hold on a second, sweetheart.” You knew what he was so afraid of, but there was no time to figure out a new plan. 

If you didn’t hurry, Amanda and everyone else on that plane were going to die.

“Dean, that plane is leaving with over 100 passengers on board, and if we’re right, that plane is gonna crash.” Even though Sam tries to reason with his brother, the startled look on Dean’s face still hasn’t worn off yet. 

“I know!”

“Well, okay,” Sam nods. “Then we’re getting on the plane, just like (Y/n) said. We need to find that demon and exorcise it!”

Dean looks at you, wishing that the waves of panic rushing off of him would be enough to try and convince you to think of a new idea. It was obvious, however, that he was the only one second-guessing something he deemed as an insanely stupid idea. 

“Look, I’ll get the tickets. You and (Y/n) just go get whatever you can out of the trunk. Whatever will make it through security.” The words were quickly pouring out of Sam’s mouth, but you still caught all of it. “Meet me back here in five minutes.” 

Sam was ready to rush off until he sensed the dread oozing out of every pore on his brother. 

“Are you okay?” Sam asks, but you already know the answer. 

Dean shrugs, before answering, not really sure how to explain why he was so worked up at the moment. “No, not really.”

Sam then questions what was wrong and Dean dances around the real answer. 

“Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh…” Dean paused, not wanting to finish the sentence. Even saying the word gave him palpitations. 

“Flying,” you finish for him, your sympathetic gaze lingering on the older Winchester. Usually, that look would give him all kinds of butterflies, but right now, the only emotion he was feeling was embarrassment. And paralyzing fear. 

“It’s never really been an issue until now,” Dean points out, not enjoying the incredulous look from his brother. Sam stares at Dean for another moment and then turns to you. 

“He’s joking, right?” Sam’s question to you was completely genuine, having never known that his older brother had a phobia of flying. You would have been surprised too if it hadn’t been for you finding out about it 2 years ago. 

It was just after you’d finished a job in Akron, Ohio. John called from Nevada, telling you that he needed some backup. When John instructed you and Dean to get there as soon as possible, you suggested leaving Baby somewhere safe and hopping on a flight to get to him in a shorter period of time. After a ten minute long rant from him about how planes were “huge, metal death machines”, you knew not to bring up the proposal of flying ever again. 

“Does it look like I’m joking?! Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?” 

Sam took a second to process the information he’d just received.

“Alright,” he says, before turning to you. “Uh, we’ll go.” Your head snapped over to the taller Winchester, almost as shocked as Dean at his proposition. 

“What?” Dean asks, his eyes ping-ponging between you and his brother. Dean thought this to be worse than him having to get on the plane alone. His baby brother and best friend 35,000 feet in the air without him on a plane that was meant to crash, not to mention that one of the passengers would be possessed by a demon. 

“We can do this one on our own,” Sam claimed, trying to reassure his brother that everything would be alright. Unfortunately, he did no such thing. 

“What are you, nuts?” You said it yourself, the plane’s gonna crash,” Dean reminds his brother, and you could tell he was only going to get even more worked up if someone didn’t calm him down. 

You send a quick look to Sam to tell him that you would take care of this as you walk up to Dean. Before he could say anything, you gently grasp his face in your hands and force him to look into your eyes. Dean freezes immediately at the feeling of your soft hands on his cheeks, tricking himself into thinking that the reason his heart sped up was because of the adrenaline pumping throughout his body. 

The of you stare at each other for a moment, Sam standing a few steps behind you, watching silently. To anyone else around you, it would look as if you and Dean were a couple sharing an intimate moment in public. Sam didn’t know why, but for some reason that bothered him. The thought of everyone thinking you and Dean were involved with each other erupted a small flame of jealousy in his chest. 

Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t have anyone to do that with anymore. Jess was gone, and even if they hadn’t found her body, he knew in his heart that she was dead. That’s it. That had to be the reason because any other one Sam could have made up in his head caused him to feel like the most horrible person in the world. 

“Listen to me, Dean.” You were almost whispering, but he could still hear you. “I know you’re scared and I am too. But we can’t let those people die, De. You know that, right?”

He can only nod, the soft tone of your voice rendering him speechless. Your face was so close to his and your hands were so warm, he could barely think. 

“Now after we exorcise that demon and save all those people, Sammy and I are going to take you out for the biggest burger you’ve ever had, alright?”

He and yourself both knew you were trying to lighten the mood, and for the moment it was working. You shared a smile and a laugh as you dropped your hands from his face, and you had to work to keep your heart rate down. 

You give Dean one last smile before turning to his brother. 

“I think we’re ready, Sammy.”

* * *

No matter how good your speech was, Dean was still nervous. Your kind gaze and warm hand had calmed him significantly in the airport, but now he was on the plane. (Or as he liked to call it, the “huge, metal death machine.”)

Sitting in with Sam on your left and Dean on your right, even you had to admit that this was not the most pleasant situation to be in. You were going to be inside a confined space with a demon who didn’t seem as nice as the one that used to lull you to sleep, and this had your stomach in knots. 

As Dean was busy looking over the manuals for the oxygen masks he felt he was going to have to use, Sam looked past you to his brother. 

“Just try to relax,” he tells him, but it was obvious that that didn’t help much. 

“Just try to _shut up,_ ” Dean spits back, and while you’re able to bite back your giggle, Sam lets his laugh bubble out. Soon after that, the plane begins to take off. Sam and yourself just sat back and took a deep breath, while Dean’s fear-filled eyes darted around the plane. The mechanical sounds made by the plane and the slight turbulence you experienced while the plane was taking off had Dean grabbing the armrests so tight that his knuckles were turning white. 

You smile to yourself before moving your smaller hand to lay on top of his. While he only relaxes a small amount, it was good enough for you.

* * *

You’d been up in the air for a little while now, and you knew the minutes were running out. As you were trying to come up with ideas in your head for the best way to go about getting rid of the demon, you were distracted by the quiet humming of Dean. Sam also heard the noise, recognizing the tune he was utilizing to distract himself. 

“You humming Metallica?” Sam asks his brother, who quickly answered, “Calms me down.” 

Sam scoffs and shakes his head. “Look, man, I get you’re nervous, alright? But you gotta stay focused.” Dean takes a deep breath and nods, understanding that if you all were going to be able to do anything, he had to get himself together. 

“Sammy, right, Dean,” you add. “I mean, we got 32 minutes and counting to track his thing down––or whoever it’s possessing, anyway––and perform a full-on exorcism.”

Dean laughs sarcastically. 

“Yeah, on a crowded plane. That’s gonna be easy,” he gripes, still pressing himself further into the back of his seat.”

“Just take it one step at a time, alright?” You reason, glad you had a level-headed Sam to help with taking care of and talking some sense into Dean. 

A determined look then falls across Sam’s face as he lowers his voice almost to a whisper. 

“Now, who is it possessing?” 

“Well,” Dean starts, “It’s usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through, somebody with an addiction or emotional distress.”

You decided to bite your tongue after he finished, not wanting to freak him out any further. Spotting one of the two flight attendants that could have been Amanda, you propose that she could be the person who the demon chose to take a ride in. 

“Well, this is Amanda’s first flight after the crash,” you acknowledged. “If I were her, I’d be pretty messed up.”

Both of the brothers nod as you all spot the attendant now positioned right next to you. 

“Excuse me. Are you Amanda?” Dean ponders, catching the attention of the woman standing next to him. She shakes her head and moves further down the aisle, leading you to suspect that the other attendant near the back of the plan must be the woman you were looking for. 

You turn around and spot her, and see that she was occupied by something on her cart of refreshments for the passengers on the plane.

“Alright, well, that’s got to be Amanda back there,” you tell both of the brothers and their necks twist to get a better look. 

“Well, I’ll go talk to her, and, uh, I’ll get a read on her mental state,” Dean declares, you and Sam nodding with him. It sounded easy enough until Sam brought up the question, “What if she’s already possessed?”

Dean thought about it for a moment, before reaching into his bag. “There’s ways to test that,” he says, opening the bag to reveal a bottle of holy water, but Sam shakes his head and you gently take the bottle from him. 

“I think we can go more subtle,” you tell him, handing the water to Sam. “If she’s possessed, she’ll flinch at the name of God.” A look of realization falls over Dean’s face, liking the idea that you’d come up with. 

“Oh. Nice,” he says, getting up to leave, but Sam quickly stops him. 

“What?” Dean asks, leaning down in front of you and Sam. 

“Say it in Latin,” Sam instructs, and Dean tells him that he already knew to do that. You and Sam both nod, but before Dean could slip away you call him back over to you again. 

“What?” Dean groans out, rushing back over to you for what he hoped was the last time. 

“Uh, in Latin, it’s _Cristo_.” 

Dean gives you a tired look at your reminder as he whispers, “Guy, I know! I’m not an idiot!” Of course, you knew that, but you also knew that Dean was still really worked up about being on the plane. 

You and Sam can only watch as Dean slowly makes his way through the aisle, gripping on whatever he could so he would fall over. Suddenly the plane jolts, forcing you into Sam’s side. Your hand ended up on his chest so he wouldn’t fall all the way on top of you and his hand gripped your shoulder in response. 

The two of you were frozen in the position for longer than either of you would’ve admitted, but you quickly pulled away once you realized that you were still touching. Stumbling through a shy apology, you turn to sit straight in your seat. 

For the rest of the time that Dean was gone, neither of you said a word. You kept looking straight, hoping that Dean would try his best to hurry back. The subtle glances of your face that Sam continued to take had you wondering if whatever just happened affected him as much as it did you. But you didn’t have time to think on it when Dean returned to his seat on the other side of you. 

“Alright, well, she’s got to be the most well adjusted on the planet.” 

“You said _Cristo_? And?” Sam asks his brother, and Dean nods. 

“Yeah. There’s no demon in her. There’s no demon getting in her,” he concludes, still not understanding how she could be so calm about being on a plane after being on another tone that had crashed. 

“So, if it’s on the plane, it can be anyone...anywhere,” you sigh, scanning your eyes over the other people around you, seeing if any of them looked like they are or could be possessed by a demon. 

The plane jolts again and Dean’s hands are right back to squeezing the armrest, looking around in bafflement that no one else seemed concerned by the plane’s spontaneous movement. 

“Hey, hey, it’s just a little turbulence,” Sam says, trying to console his brother, but it still doesn’t work. 

“Sam, this plant is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I’m friggin’ 4!” 

Sam repeats what both of you have been telling Dean since you sat down on the plane, reminding him that he needs to calm down. As you expected, Dean swears that he can’t, in which Sam replies, “Yes, you can.”

“Stow the touchy-feely, self-help yoga crap,” he rushes out at his brother. “It’s not helping.”

With Dean’s anxiety levels through the roof, you decided that you needed to remind him that not calming down was the worst thing he could be doing right now. 

“Listen, if you’re panicked, you’re wide open to demonic possession, so you need to calm yourself down right now.” While your tone was still comforting, your face was serious. Dean knew you were right, and getting possessed by the very demon that was going to try and crash this plane was the very last item on his bucket list. 

Inhaling as deep as he could, Dean blows out the breath slowly, sending you and his brother a look to show that he was actually going to try and calm his nerves. 

“Good,” Sam encouraged, nodding at you as a thanks when Dean wasn’t looking. “Now, I found an exorcism in here that I think is gonna work––the ritual Romano.”

Peeking down at the pages in the book, Dean asks Sam, “What do we have to do?” 

“It’s two parts,” Sam starts, happy that Dean was finally focused on the task at hand. “The first part expels the demon from the victim’s body. It makes it manifest, which makes it more powerful.”

Dean’s eyes widen, not liking the sound of the demon becoming any more powerful than it already was. “More powerful? How?”

“Well, it doesn’t need to possess someone anymore. It can just wreak havoc on its own,” Sam explains, and Dean scoffs. 

“Oh. And why is that a good thing?”

Sam turns back to the book, flipping to the next page. “Well, because the second part sends the bastard back to hell once and for all.” 

You nodded, liking the sound of that as Dean brought up your next assignment. 

“First thing’s first––we got to find it.”

* * *

Dean had walked from the front of the plane all the way to the back. His E.M.F. reader was in one hand as he listened for any signs that someone he walked past was the demon. He then stopped at the front of the plane, not having any such luck. 

You and Sam leave your designated seats and walk up behind him. A slap on the back from Sam to get Dean’s attention had the man jumping out of his skin before telling his brother not to do that. You ignored him, asking if he’d found anything. 

“No nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. “How much time we got?” 

Sam looks at his watch, responding with, “15 minutes.” Dean groans to himself at the answer. 

“Maybe we missed somebody,” you suggest, looking around the cabin one more time. 

“Maybe the thing’s just not on the plane,” Dean says, causing you and Sam to look at him. In your opinion, that was just wishful thinking. The demon had to be on the plane somewhere. 

“You believe that?” Sam asks, and Dean shrugs. 

“Well, I will if you two will.” Before anyone could say anything else, the buttons on the E.M.F. reader light up and it releases a small wiring sound. The three of you look down at it as the Co-pilot appears in front of you. 

“What? What is it?” You ask Dean, concerned about the look on his face. 

“ _Cristo_ ,” he mutters, and you all swallowed hard when the co-pilot stopped and turned around, his eyes now an abysmal pool of black. 

This was probably the worst-case scenario. The person possessed by the demon that’s only goal was to tank it had complete access and control of the cockpit of the plane. 

And the only idea you all could come up with was telling Amanda. 

“She’s not gonna believe this,” Sam assumes, leading the way to the back of the plane. While you hoped that he was wrong, you could help but wonder how Amanda would react to this information. What would keep her from calling you all crazy and ordering you all back to your seats? 

“12 minutes, dude,” Dean told Sam from behind you, not seeing any other option at the moment. As all of you enter the curtain, Amanda turns around and smiles. 

“Oh hi,” she says before turning to Dean. “Flight’s not too bumpy for you, I hope.”

You couldn’t help but not like how she was smiling at him, but now was not the time to get caught up on it. You had more important things to take care of. 

“Actually, that’s kind of what we need to talk to you about,” Dean tells her as Sam makes sure the curtains are completely closed. 

Amanda’s face contorts into a look of worry. “Um, okay,” she says. “What can I do for you?” Dean looks at you and Sam before easing into the dilemma as best he could. 

“Well, this is gonna sound nuts, but we don’t have time for the whole “the truth is out there” speech right now––” Rolling your eyes, you interrupt the older Winchester.

“Amanda, we know you were on Flight 2485.” Her eyes become distrusting as she tilts her head to the side. 

“Who are you guys?” She asks carefully, not liking how cornered she felt she was feeling. 

“We’ve spoken to some other survivors. We know something brought down that plane, and it wasn’t mechanical failure.” Amanda would’ve thought this was just some sick joke if it wasn’t for your serious demeanor as you explained what you knew. 

“And we need your help because we need to stop it from happening again here now.” Amanda shakes her head, wanting to get away from you all as soon as possible. 

“I’m sorry. I-I’m very busy,” she stutters, moving to leave, but a hand on her shoulder from Dean stops her. “I have to go back––”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a second. I’m not gonna hurt you, okay?” Dean promises, his tone becoming a tad less gruff. “But listen to me––the pilot from 2485, Chuck Lambert––he’s dead.”

“W-wait what? Chuck is dead?” She asks. Her eyebrows pinch together as this seemed to be news to her. 

“He died in a plane crash,” Dean clarifies. “Now, that’s two plane crashes in two months. That doesn’t strike you as strange?” Amanda tries to answer the question, but the shock from the revealment of Chuck’s death and the tense atmosphere created because of it prevented her from doing so. 

“Look, there was something wrong with 2485. Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn’t, but there’s something wrong with this flight, too. Amanda, you have to believe us,” you plead, hoping all of this information would be enough to get her to talk. And fast. 

“On,” she pauses to collect herself and her thoughts, “on 2485, there was this man. He… had these eyes.”

“Yes! That’s exactly what we’re talking about!” You exclaim, pleased that she was finally revealing what she’d seen. But before you can get too excited, she asks what she was supposed to do about it. 

Dean quietly instructs her to get the co-pilot and that you need him back here. 

“Why? What does he have to do with anything?”

“You bite your lip before answering, “Don’t have time to explain. We just need to talk to him, okay?” It was a bald-faced lie, but you had no other choice. You were probably down to almost 10 minutes now, and the earlier dealt with the demon, the more lives you would save. 

“How am I supposed to go to the cockpit and get the copilot––”

“Do whatever it takes,” Sam interrupts. “Tell him there’s something broken back here, whatever will get him out of that cockpit.”

No matter how fast you talked or how alarmed you seemed, Amanda still wouldn’t move. “Do you know that I could lose my job if you––”

“You’re gonna lose a lot more than that if you don’t help us out!” Dean exclaims, and Amanda grows silent. You could see the wheels turning in her head as she throughout about what she was about to have to do. 

Finally, she gives you a soft, “Okay,” before exiting through the curtain. You all watch through a small opening as she walks to the front of the plane, and knocks on the door. The co-pilot opens the door and they speak for a moment and you look at the brothers. 

All of you were trying to hide the fear in your eyes as he looked back and forth from Amanda to where you all were hiding. Once they were walking down the aisle, Sam hands you the holy water while Dean hands Sam the book. 

“Now what’s the problem?” The co-pilot asks, but instead of an answer, he receives a hard punch to the jaw from Dean. To Amanda’s horror, Dean climbs over his dazed body and slams him against the floor. Pulling out the duct tape he had, Dean tears off a piece and shoves it over the demon’s mouth. 

“What are you doing?” Amanda quietly shrieks. “You said you were just gonna talk to him!”

“We _are_ gonna talk to him,” Dean replies, securing the tape as you squirt some of the holy water onto the demon’s body. His skin begins to sizzle through his clothing, creating vulgar dark patches of burnt skin all over his chest and torso. 

“Oh, my God,” Amanda groans out, disgusted by the sight. “What’s wrong with him?”

You turn to her, and Sam moves to help Dean hold the demon down. “Look, we need you calm. We need you outside the curtain. Don’t let anybody in, okay? Can you do that?” When she doesn’t respond, you call her name again. “Amanda?” She then agrees, hurrying to the other side of the curtain. 

Dean punches the demon once more, and you try to pour more holy water to get him under control for the time being. 

“Hurry up, Sam,” Dean tells his brother. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold him.” You move to hold one of the demon’s arms as Sam begins the exorcism. Trying not to gag from the smoke produced from the demon’s burning body, you and Dean struggle to keep him from wiggling. 

Out of nowhere, the demon knocks the bottle of holy water out of your hand. After he shoves the three of you to the ground, you realize that you were the closest to the book. Picking it up, you continue from where Sam left off, Dean now on top of the bastard. However, his hold doesn't last, he is shoved back by the demon again. Before you knew it, the tape was off of the demon’s mouth and his focus was now trained on you. His gaze becomes curious as he sends you a sinister smirk and his voice was a haunting sound as he spoke. 

“I didn’t think what they said about you was true until now,” he smirked, causing you to shiver. “Welcome back.”

You’re frozen in your spot when you realize that he was talking about you. You had no idea what he meant, but there was no time to figure it out when he roughly grabbed Sam by the collar. 

“And I know what happened to your girlfriend! She must have been screaming! Even now she’s burning!” The demon didn’t get a chance to say anything else before Dean punched him in the face. 

You and Sam were frozen in your spots and you tried to process what had just been said about you. 

What did he mean by welcome back? 

How did he know about Jess?

“Sam! (Y/n)!” Your thoughts were interrupted by a struggling Dean as he pinned the demon’s arms down by his head. A bitter look crossed Sam’s face as he continued the exorcism, enjoying every moment of sending him back to hell. Once Sam was finished, you all grabbed the body as the demon was expelled, and you were too busy watching him to notice how his foot kicked the book out into the aisle. 

The black substance flew into a vent on the wall near you, causing Sam to ask where it went. 

“He’s in the plane,” you inform him worriedly. “Hurry up. We gotta finish it.” 

You were only on your feet for a moment before you felt the ground drop from beneath you. The main lights went out, only leaving the flickering emergency lights as the only source of illumination. Everyone started to panic, screams echoing throughout the cabin. Hands reached for the dropped oxygen masks, and you had to remind yourself to breathe. You were knocked on the ground as you reached for the book, and groaned in pain and frustration when it conveniently slid away from you. 

Doing your best in the chaos around you, you crawled and reached for the book. With one final stretch, you were successful in grabbing the book and throwing it to Sam who was back behind you. 

Both sitting up as best you could in the aisle, Sam opened the book and shouted out the second part of the exorcism as fast as he could. You helped keep the pages open as his finger followed the words, not wanting to lose his place. 

As he finished the final word, there was a strike of lightning. Soon after, the engine stabilized itself and the plane leveled out. The screams had fizzled out to whimpers of fear and exhaustion as everyone collected themselves. 

Standing up and turning around, you were met with the biggest smile on Sam’s face. You could help but mimic it, the feeling of triumph making you forget, at least for the moment, about anything the demon had said to the two of you. Over Sam’s shoulder, you spot Dean peeking out of the curtains, a relieved look on his face when he saw that you two were okay. He then shook his head, almost as if he was saying, “Never again.”

And you couldn’t have agreed more.

* * *

Paramedics and police were scattered outside of the gate exit, tending to patients and talking to witnesses about what they’d experienced. You then spotted Amanda, who mouthed an appreciative, “Thank you.” You decided not to interrupt her, only sending a small nod and smile back. Looking around one last time, Dean grabs your hand. 

“Let’s get out of here.” 

As you were walking through the airport, the only thing on your mind was the demon, and the same two questions popped into your head; What did the demon mean by “Welcome back” and how the hell did it know about Jess? 

Sam was no better than you, his face stoic as the words from the demon screwed with his mind. 

“You two okay?” Dean asks, seeing the pained expressions. Sam turns and stops in front of you and Dean. 

“Dean, it knew about Jessica.” 

Dean thinks for a moment before speaking. He knew something was wrong, but the last thing he needed Sam’s mind on was a dead demon. 

“Sam, these things, t-they read minds. They lie, alright? That’s all it was,” Dean gathers, not wanting to dwell on the subject. But his answer wasn’t enough for you. When the demon was speaking to you, rambling on about whatever rumor he had heard, it felt different. He almost seemed surprised to see you standing in front of him. 

“What about me?” You ask the brothers, and they both turn to look at you. “What the hell is ‘Welcome back’ supposed to mean? Welcome back from what?” You knew that all of you had been wondering the same thing, but no one was saying, too scared of what the answer might be. The fact that the demon knew about Jess was bad. But the way it seemed to be familiar with you was worse. 

“Sweetheart, it’s just like I told Sammy; Demons lie. He was just trying to get inside your head, okay?” 

What you wanted to say was, _“Well, it worked.”_ But instead, you’re able to give him a convincing nod. 

“Come on,” Dean urges, walking ahead of you and Sam, wanting to get out of the airport as soon as possible. However, you and Sam stay stuck in the same place. Making eye contact, you both knew that something deeper was revealed today, and whatever it was is bad. Very, very bad.

* * *

“Nobody knows what you guys did, but I _do_ ,” Jerry tells you all. You were now outside, standing near the Impala as Jerry said his goodbyes. “A lot of people could have been killed. John’s gonna be real proud.” 

Jerry goes around and shakes each of your hands, hoping the squeeze would be enough to show how truly grateful he was for your help. 

“We’ll see you around, Jerry,” you smile, wishing the man well. Hopefully the next time you saw him would be under better circumstances. 

As you moved to get in the car, Dean called out to the older man one last time. 

“You know, Jerry, I meant to ask you––how did you get my cell phone number anyway? I’ve only had it for like six months,” Dean informs him. 

“Your dad gave it to me,” Jerry reveals, causing your eyebrows to furrow. 

“What?” You ask, not sure of what you’d just heard. He had to have been mistaken. “When did you talk to him?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly talk to him, but I called his number. His voice message said to give you a call.” You all nodded slowly at the man, masking your confusion. 

“Thanks again, guys,” was all Jerry said as he turned to walk back towards the airport, leaving you, Sam, and Dean standing with your mouths dropped open. After shaking off the shock and getting into the car, Dean only drives a few miles away before pulling over on the side of the road. 

You’re sat on the trunk of Baby, squished in between the two brothers as Dean looks through his phone. 

“This doesn’t make any sense, guys,” you start, shaking your head. “We’ve called John’s number like 50 times. It’s been out of service.”

Dean puts his phone to his ear and listens to the dial tone ring for a few seconds. Then, John’s voice sounds, and he puts the phone in the middle to where you can all hear what he had to say. 

“This is John Winchester. I can’t be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean––785-555-0179. He can help and so can the young woman he’s with. Her name is (Y/n).”

The massage then ended, and Sam struggled to push back the angry tears that welled up in his eyes. You and Dean watch as he lifts himself off of the trunk and into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him. As Dean looked over to you, he could see the hurt in your eyes also. You just looked at him and shook your head in disappointment at John before entering the car behind Sam. 

Dean now sat alone on the trunk, mostly angry, but also worried. 

You were right. You all had called that number so many times, and gotten nothing but an empty line on the other side. This had to mean John was alive, and now the recurring question revealed itself again. 

Where the hell was John Winchester?

* * *

_“Hi there, little one. I’ve got a great story for you tonight.”_

_You watched with curious eyes as he sat in the chair gently, careful not to make any noise, just like he did every night._

_He then began to speak of a man._

_The man loved his wife and his child dearly. The man worked hard and loved even harder, not taking any moment he spent alive for granted. He wore his heart on his sleeve with no regrets, and always tried to live in the moment. When times were tough, he’d take it and persevere through, never giving in to the failures._

_“However, little one, this story takes an unfortunate turn.”_

_Suddenly, the man was gone, just like that. Ripped from this world and everyone who loved him. Gone forever, never to be seen again. Everyone was surprised by this. They could not believe that he was really gone. They all lamented and grieved and cried over the loss of the beloved man._

_All except one._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Episode: "Bloody Mary"


	5. "Bloody Mary"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episode 5 is complete! Some of the reader's backstory finally comes out in this episode, so I'm very excited for that. The next episode will be out hopefully soon, as I have a break from school coming up! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Warning(s): canon violence, canon death, language, angst, fluff, mentions of a stroke

“I’m worried about him, De.” 

For the past five minutes, you’d watch Sam toss and turn in his restless sleep, fighting the urge to wake him. His nightmares, not that they ever left, were picking back up again, leaving you and Dean to watch helplessly as he continued to wrestle with the death of Jess. 

However, Sam wasn’t the only one that was struggling during the night. 

_ ‘Welcome back.' _

_ ‘Welcome back.' _

_ ‘Welcome back.’ _

The phrase played over and over again in your head, continuously preventing you from sleeping through the night. Instead of nightmares, you would just lie awake in the bed, eyes trained on the ceiling as you wracked your brain for any kind of explanation. The demon’s grim tone had stuck with you since that day, and it didn’t plan on leaving you any time soon. 

To be honest, you thought you’d been hiding it pretty well. Pushing down the yawns from being up all night, blaming the constantly tired look in your eyes on stress over finding John, anything you could do to throw the brothers off your trail. However, both of them, especially Dean, saw right through it. He knew you well enough to know when you told him he had nothing to worry about there was something to worry about. 

He didn’t want to admit it, but the words were replaying in his head too. During the time he spent behind the wheel, his focus was split between the road and trying to convince his own self of what he told you back at the airport. 

_ Demons lie. He was just trying to get into your head.  _

Before Dean had the chance to bring the sore subject up, Sam’s whimpers started to fill the silence of the car. You and Dean share a worried look before turning to him. You could only let the pained sounds go on for a few more seconds before your hand was on Sam’s shoulder, shaking him awake. 

“Sam! Wake up!”

At the call of his name, his eyes shoot open and a shocked gasp leaves his mouth. He lets out a deep breath, attempting to make sense of his surroundings. For a split second, he thought he was back in the bedroom, stuck to the mattress under a screaming, burning Jess. But once he sees the concerned faces of you and his brother, he slightly relaxes. 

“I take it I was having a nightmare?” He didn’t have to ask, the way Dean and yourself were looking at him telling everything. 

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed. “Another one.”

Sam looks back at you for a moment, feeling bad knowing that he is responsible for the hint of worry that clouded your eyes. “Hey, at least I got some sleep,” he jokes, making an effort to lighten the mood. 

Dean wasn’t laughing as he replied, “You know, sooner or later, we’re gonna talk about this.” 

You knew he was talking to both you  _ and _ Sam, but neither of you paid any mind to it, not wanting to get into anything that didn’t relate to the case at the moment. Sam looks outside the windows of the car, glancing at the building behind you. 

“Are we here?” He asks, and you nod. 

“Yep. Welcome to Toledo, Ohio,” you announce, your satirized tone exposing your lack of enthusiasm of the destination of the week. However, you had no control over where you ended up. You went wherever the job took you. 

Sitting up further, Sam pulls out the newspaper with the case you’d found. The beloved father and husband’s peculiar death had you hooked right away. “What do you think really happened to this guy?” Sam wonders, reading over the man’s section of the obituary. 

“That’s what we're gonna find out,” Dean notified, before looking back to smile at you and exit the car. “Let’s go.” You and Sam followed suit, opening the door and sliding out of Baby. Walking up the long stairwell of the building, you enter and head straight for the morgue. A sign signals that you’d made it and the three of you filed into the room. Passing an empty desk on the way, your eyes run over the nameplate that sat on the top, and you note that the man sitting at the other desk probably wasn’t the one you were looking for. 

“Hey,” he greets, and you have to hold back a scoff as his eyes hold onto you longer than necessary. Dean greets him back quickly with a tight smile. 

“Can I help you?” The man challenged, unknowingly puffing out his chest a little more as you stepped closer to the desk.

“Yeah, we’re the, uh, med students,” Dean sputters, earning a quizzical look from him. “Oh, Dr. Fligavitch didn’t tell you? We talked to him on the phone. We’re from Ohio State. He’s supposed to show us the Shoemaker corpse. It’s for our paper.” 

You’re somewhat impressed at how well Dean was doing, considering that there was no prior discussion of this lie on the way here. But the unimpressed look Dean received from the man sitting at the desk told you that it wasn’t going to be as easy as you’d hoped. 

“Well, I’m sorry, he’s at lunch.”

You share a look with the brothers before Dean continues. 

“Oh. Well, he said, uh––oh, well, it doesn’t matter,” Dean faltered. “You don’t mind showing us the body, do you?”

The man shakes his head again, telling you, “Sorry, I can’t. Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want.” His eyes were no longer shy as they ran over you, delighted by the idea of you having to stick around for a little while longer. The brothers catch him this time, Sam’s jaw clenching tight as the man takes no regard for subtlety. 

“An hour?” Dean cringes. “We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then. Look, this paper’s half our grade, so if you don’t mind helping us out?”

“Look, man,” he interrupts, and a smile morphs onto Dean’s face, thinking he’d gotten through to the guy. “No.” The man pauses for a moment with his eyes on you, thinking. “Actually, you know what? I wouldn’t mind showing  _ you _ around.” 

Your eyebrows raise in shock at his forwardness as a sarcastic laugh bubbles out of Dean. 

“I’m gonna hit him in his face, I swear,” Dean mumbles to you and his brother, who pulls him a few steps away from the desk. While Sam wouldn’t have any problem with the idea of socking the man in the teeth for what he’d just said, that wasn’t going to help you solve anything. 

Sam steps forward and takes out his wallet as you look at the man with hard eyes. The smug look on his face as Sam showed him the cash resulted in you wanting to have a go at him after Dean took his turn if you got the chance. Dean threw his head back in irritation as Sam slapped multiple bills on the desk, and you assumed that he was going to pay for that later. 

The man perks up at the sight of the money, and you make a note to yourself to remember that he slipped the money into his left pocket as he rose up from the desk. “Follow me.”

As Sam went to follow the man, Dean roughly grips his shoulder and yanks him back. Deciding against staying with the brothers to listen to them pester and argue about, you decide to walk over with the bold nurse. Swallowing the small amount bile that rose in your throat at the idea that came to you, you plaster on a sickenly sweet smile. 

“So you’re a nurse?” You question, making sure that he saw how your eyes swipe across him. He blushes, nodding with a pompous smile. Reaching the door to the examination room, the man stops and stares down at you as you tell him, “Well, I do like a man in a uniform.” 

He laughs and you want to roll your eyes at how easily the compliment went to the grape that he was sporting for a head. As he was distracted by your flirtatious gaze and trying to unlock the door to the room, he didn't notice your small hand slipping into his baggy pocket. You stare innocently as you take the cash and slip it back into your possession, only feeling sorry due to the fact that you wouldn’t get to see the look on his face when he realized it wasn’t there anymore. 

It was a small, but useful trick you’d mastered years ago. John had taught it to you, knowing that it would be useful at some point in your life. For example, now.

After Sam and Dean finally catch up, you all enter the examination room and stand around the body that was coerced by a white sheet. 

“Now, the newspaper said his daughter found him,” Sam recounts. “She said his eyes were bleeding.” The nurse looks at Sam before pulling back the sheet. 

“More than that. They practically  _ liquified _ ,” he tells you, pulling back the sheet to reveal the man’s face. You grimace at the sight of the man’s hollow eye sockets. The nurse shines the light on the man’s face, giving you a better look inside. 

“Any sign of a struggle, maybe somebody did it to him?” Dean asks, but the nurse shakes his head and tells you that other than his daughter, no one else was there. 

“What’s the official cause of death?” You ask, looking back down to the empty sockets. I felt familiar in a terrifying kind of way, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

The nurse sighs before answering you, which already gave you your answer. “Doc’s not sure. He’s thinking a massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm,” he attempts. “Something burst up in there, that’s for sure.” 

Sam gives the nurse a curious look, asking, “What do you mean?”

“Intense cerebral bleeding,” the nurse answers, and you find yourself the smallest bit alarmed at the fascinated look on his face as he looked at the dry blood that dripped out of the empty eye sockets. “This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I’ve ever seen”.

“The eyes––what would cause something like that?” You ask, reluctantly looking away from the gory sight in front of you. 

“Capillaries can burst,” the nurse shrugs, giving it a guess. “See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims.” While he might have been right, this didn’t look like a stroke of any sort. 

“Yeah, you ever see  _ exploding _ eyeballs?” Dean muses, causing the nurse to shake his head. 

“That’s a first for me. But, hey, I’m not the doctor.”

The next thing you needed to observe was the police report. Since the nurse didn’t have any answers, that was the next best thing. 

“I’m really not supposed to show you that,” the nurse replies after Dean asks to take a peek at the report. The self-satisfied smirk on the man’s face as Sam pulled out his wallet for the second time caused all three of you to roll your eyes.

You ended up stealing that money back too.

* * *

“Might not be one of ours,” Sam proposes as you walk down the stairs. “Might just be some freak medical thing.”

Even though a small part of you hoped that what Sam had offered was true, there was a larger part of you that suspected that wasn’t the case. 

“How many times in Dad’s long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sigh of an awful supernatural death?” Dean asked as you proceeded closer and closer to the door. 

“Uh, almost never,” you answer with an exhausted chuckle, your lack of sleep already getting the better of you.    


Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Sam suggests that you all should go and talk to the daughter to see what information you could obtain from her.

“Good idea,” you tell Sam, before quickly remembering the rightfully-reclaimed cash that sat in one of your back pockets. “Wait. One second,” you stop the brothers, who give you mixed looks of confusion and concern. 

You can’t find the strength to hold back your giggle at the way their eyes widen when you pull out the bills and waved them in front of them. 

“Isn’t that the money Sam gave that dick back there?” Dean wondered aloud, almost not believing the money in your hands was real. 

Nodding, you grasp his hand and gently set the money in his outstretched palm. “Yeah, but I took it back. He deserved it for being such an ass,” you grumble. The last thing you wanted to do was have him think he got away with pulling one over on you. The little information you got from him was some you could have easily broken in and found yourselves. 

“That’s my girl,” Dean grins, pulling you towards him and placing a kiss on your forehead. He winks at you one last time before leaving you and Sam to follow behind him. 

“Nice, work, (Y/n),” Sam complimented bashfully. The proud smile he earned from you forced a blush to tickle against his cheeks, the sight being something he always did and always would love. As you left to follow Dean, his face dropped into one of sorrow. 

He had to stop doing that. 

He had to stop getting butterflies in his stomach whenever you were near. He had to stop finding pleasures in the little moments you shared that left both of you silent but warm inside. His girlfriend had just died and there was already another woman making his head spin. 

Yet still, no matter how many times he told himself that, it didn’t work. The butterflies in his stomach constantly lingered and his head still spun all the same. 

However, he shouldn’t have been surprised. He didn’t want to admit it, but you’ve always made him feel this way.

* * *

When you entered the household, every pair of mourning eyes fell onto the brothers and yourself. Their judging stares scanned over your less than formal attire, and you tried to ignore the heavy gazes of offense that they projected through their pain. 

“Feel like we’re underdressed,” Dean murmurs back to you and his brother, also not taking much pleasure in the way everyone was looking at you all. Traveling through the foyer decorated with pictures and flowers dedicated to the late Mr. Shoemaker and down the hallway, you reach the living room. There were even more people looking now, but you paid no mind as you politely asked an older, approachable man where you could find Mr. Shoemaker’s daughters. 

He led you out to the somewhat populated backyard, pointing towards where the two daughters resided. Thanking him, you make your way over to the sorrowful girls. One of the friends they happened to be surrounded by let her jaw drop open with no shame as she caught sight of Sam and Dean and all you could do was clench your jaw in irritation. 

“You must be Donna, right?” Dean asks one of the girls sitting on the bench and the one with shorter brown hair nods. 

“Yeah.” She looks over you skeptically as she answers, and you get the feeling that it was due to more than just your choice of clothing. 

“Hi, uh––we’re really sorry.” Sam’s tone was uncertain but gentle as he greeted the eldest daughter, having all the sympathy in the world for her. This brought a grateful look onto her face as she thanked the three of you. “I’m Sam. This is Dean and (Y/n).” You smile warmly as you are introduced. “We worked with your dad.”

“You did?” 

“Yeah. This whole thing,” Dean pauses to shake his head. “I mean, a stroke.”

While the eldest daughter looks down towards her lap, the word  _ stroke _ now forever tearing her heart into shreds, the youngest one lifts up her big brown eyes and settles them onto you. 

Before Donna could say anything else, her other friend steps in so she would have to take the task of discussing the disheartening matter any further. 

“I don’t think she wants to talk about this right now,” she scolds with a cold look in her eyes but is promptly interrupted. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” Donna assures with an honest nod. You silently commend her for her strength in this difficult situation. You would give anything for that type of strength. 

“Were there ever any symptoms? Dizziness, migraines?”

She shakes her head, not even having to think about it. “No.”

However, it was apparent that the youngest daughter thought differently. Whipping around, her voice was pleading as she looked to her older sister. 

“That’s because it wasn’t a stroke.” 

Your eyebrows furrow at her statement, wondering why she would think something like that. 

“Lily, don’t say that,” her sister instructs, and it seems as if this wasn’t the first time that the phrase had tumbled out of her mouth. “I’m sorry, she’s just upset.” Lily looks back at you, hoping to just gloss over a fact that her sister was adamant on. 

“No, it happened because of me,” she articulated once again, not letting go of the tight grip she had on the belief that she was the cause of her father’s death. Her mind was not changed in the slightest as her sister tried once again to assure her that she wasn’t

Walking behind the girl sitting in the chair, you crouch down right beside the youngest daughter.

“Lily, why would you say something like that?” She was silent for a moment, but your soft gaze and comforting tone was enough to get her to verbalize why she was feeling this way. 

“Right before he died, I said it.” 

“You said what?” You questioned gently, and her answer sent shivers down your spine. 

“Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror.” Your eyes trailed up to the brothers as you finally understood why Lily was fixated on the idea that she was the main culprit in her father’s untimely death. “She took his eyes, that’s what she does.”

“That’s not why Dad died,” Donna guarantees once again. “This isn’t your fault.” You nodded along with her because she was right. Even if she did summon Bloody Mary, there was no way she would’ve known it was real. To Lily, Bloody Mary was nothing more than a scary, school-yard myth that school-mates spread around to scare everyone. 

“I think your sister’s right, Lily,” Dean adds. “There’s no way it could have been Bloody Mary. I mean, your dad didn’t say it, did he?”

Lily thinks for a second before replying, “No, I don’t think so.” 

“Lily, you  _ did not _ kill your father. None of this is your fault,” Sam reassures the young girl once more, and you bite your lip at his affirmation. It was almost amusing how much you wished he was talking to you. It would have been the first time in your entire life that anyone had said that to you and  _ actually _ meant it. 

* * *

After speaking with Mr. Shoemaker’s grieving daughters, you snuck your way to the upstairs of the house. Your footsteps were meditative as you made your way down the hall, knowing that this was the last place anyone should find three strangers. 

Finally making it to the bathroom, you were reluctant to push the door open, not sure of what you would find. Hopefully, Bloody Mary herself wasn’t in there, ready and waiting to turn your eyeballs into liquid. As the door slowly pressed open, you noticed how dry blood littered the tiled floor in front of you, and you could only guess it came from the late Mr. Shoemaker. 

“The ‘Bloody Mary’ legend,” Sam starts, eyes scanning over the entirety of the bathroom. “Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?” 

You rack your brain for any remembrance of John speaking on what you previously believed to be a myth, but, unfortunately, you came up with nothing. 

“Not that I know of,” you answer before flicking on the light and moving further into the bathroom, making an effort to step over the dry blood in front of you. 

“I mean, everywhere else, all over the country, kids will play ‘Bloody Mary’. And as far as we know, nobody dies from it,” Sam points out, rising up from the stained blood he had just further examined. 

“Yeah, well, maybe everywhere it’s just a story, but here it’s actually happening,” Dean proposes, send an incredulous look to the mirror in front of you all. 

“The place where the legend began?” You wonder aloud, getting the feeling that he was onto something. “But according to the legend, the person who says––” you pause as Dean opens the mirror, which ends up angled right towards you. You huff out a breath and hurry to push the mirror back into place, not wanting to give the vengeful spirit a chance to have a go at you. “––the person who says you know what gets it. But here––”

“Shoemaker gets it instead, yeah” Dean finishes for you, causing you and Sam to verbalize your agreement. “Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror. And the daughter’s right. The way the legend goes,  _ you know who _ scratches your eyes out.”

Shaking off the gruesome thought of Mr. Shoemaker’s empty sockets, your eyes trail around the bathroom for any more possible hints. 

“It’s worth checking out,” you tell the brothers, making it a point to not look in the mirror a few paces away from you. Suddenly, the sound of cautious footsteps cause your heads to whip over to the door, and you already know you’ve been caught snooping. 

As you emerge from the bathroom, an accusing tone startles you to a stop. “What are you doing up here?” It was one of the friends of the eldest daughter. Luckily, it was the one who had the decency to not drool over two men that were obviously too old for someone her age. 

“We–we had to go to the bathroom,” Dean attempts, looking at you and Sam when he knew that his excuse wasn’t going to be good enough to get you off of the hook. You don’t get the chance to cringe before she was questioning you again. 

“Who are you?”

Although you less than appreciated her tone, you had to admit that she had every right to be wary of you. The three of you, strangers at that, questioning her friend about her father’s death and later found sneaking around in a house that you obviously did not belong in. 

“Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna’s dad,” Dean tried to continue, but it seemed that the girl had a genuine rebuttal for everything Dean threw at her. 

“He was a day trader or something, he worked by himself,” she notifies you, and you now knew for sure that your bluff had been called. 

“No, I know, I meant––”

Dean tried to continue, but she was hearing none of it. 

“And those weird questions downstairs, what was that?” 

You wish you could answer her question without making yourself out to be a stalker or getting her involved in any way, but it wasn’t possible. All three of your mouths closed and opened like fish out of water as you tried to think of something to say. 

“So you tell me what’s going on, or I start screaming,” she states, and the no-nonsense look on her face told you that she was completely serious. 

You hold your hands up as a surrender, seeing as she seemed like a person that usually kept her word. 

“Alright, alright,” you begin to reason, glancing at Sam and Dean before turning back to the determined young woman in front of you. “We think something happened to Donna’s dad.”

“Yeah, a stroke,” the friend said knowingly, but you shook your head at her. 

“That’s not the typical sign of a stroke,” you state, eyes flicking to the residue of the blood that you were standing over. “We think it might be something else.” 

When she asked you what, all you could do was shrug your shoulders. “Honestly, we don’t know yet. But we don’t want it to happen to anyone else. That’s the truth,” you vowed with a stern yet steady tone. “So, if you’re gonna scream, go right ahead.” 

The young woman thought for a moment as she looked at you. You could tell she was contemplating whether or not she believed the story in her head, and you held your breath, hoping you’d gotten through to her. She sighs finally, signaling that she was going to hold off on the screaming. 

However, her face twists up in confusion again as she asks another question. 

“Who are you, cops?”

Dean turns to you and his brother before nodding. “Something like that.”

Good. Not completely a lie, but close enough to the truth to get her to trust you. 

“I’ll tell you what. Here,” Sam announces, pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper and writing down one of the many numbers that the three of you used. “You or your friends notice anything strange, out of the ordinary, just give us a call.”

With Sam handing her the paper, you leave her in the hallway with her thoughts. Hopefully, she knew something and would bring herself to use the number. You needed all the help you could get.

* * *

You fought off another yawn as the door to the  _ Central Public Library _ swung open in front of you. As you make your way through the hallways, Dean and Sam swapped ideas with one another. 

“Alright,” Dean begins, “say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town. There’s gonna be some sort of proof––a local woman who died nasty.”

Sam shrugs at Dean’s proposal. “Yeah, but a legend this widespread, it’s hard. I mean, there’s like 50 versions of who she actually is. One story says she’s a witch, another says she’s a mutilated bride. There’s a lot more.”

You wanted to join along in the discussion that the brothers were having, but instead of helpful ideas, your mind was filled with a thick fog of confusion. Sleep dignified you with no answer when you called out to it during the night, as endless echoes of the demon loudly rumbled through the mind.

“So what are we supposed to be looking for?” Dean asks, subtly side-eyeing and pushing down the urge to question why you hadn’t said anything since the three of you entered the building. The bags under your eyes were discouragingly obvious, but it made sense that you had them, given that every time Dean woke up to switch positions, he saw you pretending to be asleep. 

“Well, every version’s got things in common,” Sam states, trying to think of any other points off the top of his head. “It’s always a woman named Mary, and she always dies in front of a mirror––so we’ve got to search local newspapers––public records as far back as they go, see if we can find a Mary who fits the bill.” 

“Well, that sounds annoying,” Dean gripes, your fake chuckle pushing his concern over the edge. However, before he could say anything, you declared you would get to work. 

“I’m gonna get started,” you sigh, turning all of the attention towards the  _ out of order _ sign taped on the monitors of the only two computers in the room. “Looks like we might be here for a while.” 

Dean’s hand moves to grab yours as you walk off, but your arm just misses his grip as you head towards a bookshelf, and both of the brothers fall silent. You ignore their longing gazes as you move away, wanting to get out from under the suffocating feeling of concern whenever you stand near one or both of them. 

“I’m worried about her, Sammy,” Dean mumbles, not taking his eyes off of you. 

Sam nods at his brother’s warranted accusatiton, clenching his jaw as they watch you fight back another yawn. “I know. Is she still not sleeping?” Sam takes Dean’s frustrated groan as a no. 

“You’re barely sleeping more than her,” Dean tells Sam, ignoring the eye roll he earns from him. “While we’re on the subject, don’t think you’re off the hook either.” 

Sam doesn’t acknowledge his brother’s comment, his worry for your well-being overpowering his own problems that he had been facing. “Yeah, whatever. We can worry about me later,” is all Sam says before he slowly makes his way over to where you were now sorting through a small stack of books you felt would be helpful.

Dean took a deep breath as he watched you throw a tired smile at Sam, before peering back down at the book sitting open in front of you. The usual shine that graced your eyes whenever you smiled had dulled over the past week, and Dean missed it more than anything. You were still perfect to him in every way, but it was clear the demon had snatched a piece of your spirit and took it back with him as he was exorcised to Hell. 

He wanted to talk to you about it. He wanted to talk to you  _ and _ Sam about it, however, the conversations usually went two ways. Either you or Sam would deny that anything was wrong, or just Dean to drop it altogether. (Both of which made a ball of worry tangle up in the chest of the eldest Winchester.)

As he stood there, an idea materialized in his mind, and while he wasn’t sure how it would go over with you, it was the only thing he could think of. 

Moving over to the table that Sam and yourself were sharing for the moment, Dean had to take a deep breath before he spoke. 

“(Y/n)?” 

Your tired eyes meet his, and it only reinforces his certainty that this was the right decision. 

“Why don’t you take off for a while? Maybe head back to a motel and get some sleep…” His sentence trails off as your eyebrows furrowed together.

“What?” You ask, looking to Sam for some kind of explanation. “Dean, we have a man whose eyeballs exploded and Bloody Mary lingering around town. There’s no time to take off,” you point out, quite passionately, but Dean just shakes his head. 

“Sweetheart, you know I love having you out here on the front lines with us,” Dean smiles sadly. “But you’re in no condition to hunt right now. No offense” 

Sam looks somewhat surprised with his brother, and you can’t tell if it’s because he was bracing himself for your counter-argument towards Dean or he feels like he should be the one getting this suggestion. 

“I’m in perfect condition,” you fib, not paying any mind to the looks of skepticism you acquire from both of the brothers. “I’m fine, Dean. Really,” you affirm, wanting to drop the matter altogether. The more you focused on the case, the less the thoughts of the demon could consume your mind. 

“No, you’re not, (Y/n)!” Dean exclaims, and you could tell his apprehension over your lack of sleep was eating away at him. “You’re not sleeping. And you don’t wanna talk about it either, so we don’t know how to help you. You’re as bad as Sam!”

You and Dean both ignored the offended  _ ‘Hey!’ _ from Sam as you continued to argue. 

“You’re right. I don’t want to talk about it, so just––”

“Why don’t I go with you?” Sam’s interruption has you stopping mid-sentence to look at him. “I hate to say, but he’s right, (Y/n). We’re both running on empty, and it won’t be good for anyone if something bad happens because of it.”

Dean and Sam both looked on as you sat frozen in your seat, disappointed at the fact that you let yourself become a liability. Two little words had you completely off your game and you would never forgive yourself if one of them got hurt over it. 

“Maybe we can sneak a few of these books back with us? Call a taxi and get settled in a motel room while Dean takes care of the other stuff?” Sam was using his puppy-dog eyes on your for emphasis, making you remember how hard it is to say no to them. 

Dean felt hopeful at the fact that Sam was clearly getting through to you and would most likely be getting some rest himself. But another feeling spread throughout his body as he observed the way you and Sam were looking at each other. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, and to be completely honest, he didn’t want to. 

You sigh deeply, slowly shutting the book that you hoped would carry your mind somewhere else. “Fine,” was all you rasped out as you grabbed a few more books and stood up out of your chair. Part of you was upset with the fact that you’d been sidelined. The last place you wanted to be was in a dingy motel room, reading over pages of texts that probably doubted would get you anywhere with the case. But everything Dean had said was right. Your lack of sleep would catch up to you eventually if it already hadn’t, and you didn’t want to find out what happened when it did. 

As you begin to head over to the doors, Dean’s warm and comforting hand stops you. Before you can say anything, he presses a lingering kiss into your forehead, causing electricity to ripple throughout your body. 

“You know we’re only doing this because we’re worried, right?” Dean asks as he pulls his lips away from your forehead. You glance at them for only a moment, quickly nodding to let him know you understand. 

“I know, De,” you tell him, and just for a second, Dean saw a glimmer of the shine that the demon took away. Unfortunately, the glimmer went just as quickly as it came. 

Your hand lightly strokes his stubbly cheek before you reluctantly turn away from him and resume your journey to the exit. Dean watches sorrowfully as you travel further and further away from him, and he catches Sam by the arm as he goes to follow you. 

“Sammy,” Dean calls out, and Sam pauses, eager to hear what Dean has to say now. “Get some sleep.”

Sam huffs out a laugh at this command, knowing it was easier said than done. Nevertheless, he nodded his head and slapped his brother on the arm with the hand that wasn’t busy holding a stack of books. 

Dean waits until you and Sam are out of view to turn back to the now-empty library, swiftly lets out a grown as he remembers that the computers were down. 

“This should be fun.”

* * *

You were just settling on the bed with one of the books when Sam lets himself back into the room. The taxi driver had been nice enough to drive you to one of the better motels nearby, and you found yourself thankful for the absence of lumps the motel bed possessed. 

“So I was thinking on some theories about––what the hell, Sam?”

The book that had previously resided on your lap had been rudely snatched away by Sam as you were speaking. He doesn’t say anything as he throws the book on the table a few feet away before turning back to give you the sternest look he could muster. 

“You need to sleep,” he states, tone becoming somber as he looks over your tired eyes. “Like Dean said before, we know you’re not sleeping and––”

“Neither are you,” you point out, and he sighs heavily at your rebuttal. “And I’ll sleep later, but right now––”

Sam already knew what you were going to say, so he took the task of finishing your sentence for you. “––you don’t want to talk about it?”

You fall silent as Sam cuts you off, not knowing what else you could say to get him off your back. 

“(Y/n),” Sam starts moving from his spot in the middle of the room to sit next to you on the bed. “I know you don’t want to talk about what the demon said, and with the way I’ve been acting, I have no business telling you that you should. But––”

“I’m so scared, Sammy.” 

Sam’s heart broke as your voice cracked with uneasiness. 

“I’ve been rolling it around in my head for days trying to figure out what he meant,” you whisper, eyes staying trained on how your hands were wringing together as you spoke. “But none of it is making sense, and it’s driving me  _ crazy. _ ” 

Right now, your voice was the smallest Sam had ever heard it. 

It shook with fear and uncertainty as you worked to will back the hushed tears that had welled up in your eyes. The demon’s haunting tone was echoing in your mind again and it wouldn't stop. It took everything in you not to break down at that moment, exhaustion and fear overwhelming you. 

“Dean just keeps saying that demon’s lie, and he was trying to get inside our heads?” You ask with a bitter laugh. “Well, it worked. At least for me.”

Sam doesn’t know if it’s the tears in your eyes or if he just wanted to hold your hand, but he squeezes it as tenderly as he can after he grabs it. 

“I’m scared too,” Sam trembled, not being able to meet your eyes. “Whenever I close my eyes, all I see is Jess. She’s always lurking somewhere in my mind, and it seems like this feeling of hopelessness is never gonna go away.” 

There both of you sat, allowing the words that sat in the deepest part of your mind to pour out of you like a waterfall. Two people, rocked by an unknown but crushing fear of what was to come, finding comfort in the fact that the person that was sitting across from you was just as scared. 

Neither of you said anything as Sam motioned for you to scoot over so he could position himself into a more comfortable position next to you. It was reluctant, but Sam slid his arm around you as your head found its way to the middle of his chest. Sam wished on everything to make sure you didn’t notice how fast his heart was racing as you settled yourself into his side. 

This was okay, right?

It was just two friends, sharing a creaky bed in a motel after spilling some of the contents of their hearts to each other. Sam ignored the fact that your body in his arms instantly made him feel better, forcing himself to remember that he couldn’t feel this way about someone just after his girlfriend had died. 

You had to force away a similar thought, knowing that you had no business getting butterflies over a man whose brother you also had feelings for, not to mention that the woman he was probably planning to spend the rest of his life with was forever lost. 

But this was okay, right?

Both of you needed to go to sleep and if this was the only way you were going to get it, then so be it. 

* * *

Instead of violently twitching out of his nightmare, this time Sam only gasped awake, but he still caught an incredulous glance from Dean. 

He couldn’t pay attention to the look on Dean’s face due to the fact that your head was nuzzled into his chest, his arm still hooked around your back. He peeks at Dean, who was sporting an expression between irritated and skeptical, and he knew he’d been caught having another nightmare. 

“How’d you get in?” Sam asks, making sure to keep his sleep-laced voice at a reasonable volume so wouldn’t be awakened from your much-needed rest. 

“Bribed the clerk and he gave a key,” Dean states, his tone also quiet, yet a little harsher than he meant. 

He didn’t expect to see his little brother and his best friend snuggled up on the tiny motel bed when he entered the room, but there you were, sound asleep in the arms of someone else. The next 30 minutes were filled with him switching his gaze between when you lied with Sam and the dusty old book he’d taken from the library. 

The small pangs that arose in his chest every time he looked at how you were unknowingly clinging to Sam in your sleep both saddened and confused the older Winchester. 

Why did the fact that you were sleeping with Sam bother him so much? Even if you hadn’t seen each other in a long while, you and Sam were as close as could be before he left for Stanford. Four years ago, this would be something he was used to seeing, so what was so different about right now? 

Dean was knocked out of his thoughts when Sam shifted in the bed, attempting to get up without waking you. He slipped his arm from behind you and repositioned your head so it was laying on the single pillow on the bed. The brothers left their gazes on you for a little longer than necessary, both to make sure you would stay asleep and to admire how peaceful you looked. 

Sam then takes his gaze off of you, his mind going back to the conversation you and he had shared before you dozed off. He sighs deeply before sitting on the edge of the bed, facing his brother. 

He knows he should tell him what you said. It was obvious that your and Sam’s underlying struggles were eating away at Dean. No matter how hard he tried to come off as resolute and unwavering, Sam knew the truth. 

Dean was just as scared as you and Sam. 

Therefore, Sam decided against it. No good would come of it, because to keep up the unflinching demeanor, Dean would just repeat what he’d said before, not wanting to deal with something this big until they found their Dad.

“So, what’d you dream about?” Dean asks, annoying Sam when he didn’t drop a matter that Sam obviously didn’t want to talk about at the moment. 

“Lollipops and candy canes,” Sam chaffs, earning a knowing smirk from his older brother. 

Dean’s response of, “Yeah, sure,” is paired with a huffing laugh of annoyance and frustration. He knew the dream––rather nightmare––was about Jess, and that was something Sam didn’t want to talk about. So, going against his instincts, Dean decided to drop the subject altogether. 

A rustling in the bed catches the attention of Sam and Dean, both of them looking towards where you were stretching yourself awake. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you’re somewhat startled by the unexpected attention of the brothers. You smile lightly, the first thing on your mind being how far Dean had gotten with the case while you and Sam were napping. 

“Hi, Dean,” you greet, sitting up while attempting to wipe the sleep off of your face. The only thing on your mind now was figuring out a way to get rid of Bloody Mary so she couldn’t hurt anyone else. “Did you find anything?” 

The oldest Winchester couldn’t help but laugh at the question, knowing that would be one of the first things out of your mouth. Your compassion wouldn’t let your focus drift from whoever you were helping during the case, and that was one of the things that he admired about you. 

“Besides a whole new level of frustration?” Dean asks, smiling sarcastically. “No. I’ve looked at  _ everything _ . A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave. But, uh, no Mary.”

Sam sighs heavily, throwing himself back on the bed. His head ending up on your lap causes the both of you to share a quick glance with each other, but neither of you makes an effort to change positions. 

“Maybe we just haven’t found it yet,” you propose, not catching the subtle scowl that ran across Dean’s face at the sight in front of him. 

“I’ve also been searching for strange deaths in the area,” Dean states, momentarily shaking off his dissatisfaction with how close you and Sam were sitting on the bed. “You know, eyeball bleeding, that sort of thing. There’s  _ nothing. _ Whatever’s happening here, maybe it just ain’t Mary.” 

You didn’t have the chance to deflate at Dean’s answer, the blaring ring of Sam’s phone stopping you from doing so. Sam looks at it for a moment, before answering. You share a look with Dean, both of you wondering who it could be. 

Sam finally raises his head from your thigh, and you already knew you would be heading out when you heard the frantic voice of Sam trying to calm down whoever was on the other line. It took only minutes for him to hang up, and you weren’t surprised when he explained that there had been another death. Leaving the motel room behind, the three of you sped down the road, frustrated with the fact that another person was dead and you had essentially nothing. 

Your heart clenched at the sound of Charlie’s sobs. 

She was sitting on a bench in a local park, explaining what had happened to Jill, the other friend that had been sitting with Donna. You sat next to her on the bench, as Dean was on the other side of her, sitting atop of it. Sam took a spot standing in front of you all, listening intently. 

“And they found her on the bathroom floor,” Charlie weeps, still not believing what she was telling you all. “And her––her eyes… they were  _ gone, _ ” she exclaims, now looking towards you. You give her a sympathetic look, as you place a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam told her, knowing she wouldn’t want to hear much of anything else right now. 

“And she said it,” Charlie adds, causing Dean to send you and Sam a knowing look. “I heard her say it. But it couldn’t be because of that,” she denied, shaking her head. It couldn’t have been, because she knew that Bloody Mary wasn’t real. It was just a scary story.

“I’m insane right?” Charlie asks the three of you, praying that there was an ordinary answer for her friend’s death. There had to be. 

“No, you’re not insane,” Dean assures her, but his words had the opposite effect as Charlie shook her head in disbelief.

“Oh, God, that makes me feel so much worse,” she mewled, and you squeezed her shoulder to reassure her that she was going to be okay. 

“Look,” Sam starts but pauses, not sure if he should reveal what he was about to say. There was a possibility that Charlie could either call you all crazy or run screaming for the hills at the thought of Bloody Mary being real. Both, of which, you did not want to happen.

But with a small nod for you and an encouraging look from Dean, Sam continued. 

“We think something’s happened here, something that can’t be explained,” he tells her, somewhat afraid of what her reaction would be. 

“And we’re gonna stop it,” Dean adds, looking down at her with a determined look on his face. “But we could use your help.”

* * *

You didn’t think that Sam and Dean’s larger figures would fit through the smaller window to Jill’s room, but somehow they did. With Charlie’s help, the three of you clambered inside the room, ready to look for any clues as to why Mary targeted Jill. 

“What did you tell Jill’s mom?” You asked, wanting to know what excuse Charlie used to get inside to let you in. 

“I just said I needed some time alone with Jill’s pictures and things. I hate lying to her,” she informed you as you work to pull out the camcorder Sam brought. 

“Trust us,” Dean responds, “this is for the greater good. Hit the lights.”

Charlie hurries to the light switch as you power on the camcorder, making sure it was on the right settings before you had to use it. 

“Hey, night vision,” you call out, and Dean slips on the correct lens, causing the mode to switch to night vision. “Thanks.”

Looking at the screen, you focus the camera on Dean to check if it was working correctly. When he notices you had the camera on him, he gives you the smallest of smirks. 

“Do I look like Paris Hilton?” He asks, and you only huff out a laugh, somewhat distracted with looking for anything else that could be of help. Dean shrugs his shoulder when no one else laughs at his joke, going to pull out his EMF reader. 

Moving over to the closet, you open the door and begin to go over the mirror. 

“So I don’t get it,” Sam announces. “I mean, the first victim didn’t summon Mary, and the second victim did. How’s she choosing them?”

“Beats me,” Dean answers, slowly traveling around the room, waiting for the reader to alert him of types of ghosts or spirits that were potentially in the room with you all. 

You close the closet door, walking towards another mirror you’d spotted earlier on the other side of the room. 

“I want to know why Jill said it in the first place,” Dean wonders, looking at Charlie for a possible answer. 

“It’s just a joke,” she stammers, knowing that Jill shouldn’t have said it. 

“Yeah, well, somebody’s gonna say it again. It’s just a matter of time,” Dean tells her as you are looking over the mirror in the bathroom. As you are lining the bottom of it, you freeze, spotting some kind of substance running down the wall. 

“Guys,” you call, walking out of the bathroom. Everyone turns their heads to you as you flip the camcorder off. “There’s a black light in the trunk right?” 

In a matter of minutes, Dean is back inside and closing the window. Charlie, Sam, and yourself are crouched around the mirror that Sam has taken down for you. Catching the black light from his brother, Sam rips into the back of the mirror, anxiously tearing away the paper. 

Shining the lights over what looks to be bare space, a single handprint and name appear before you. 

“Gary Bryman?” Charlie asks, and you turn your head over to her. 

“You know who that is?” You ask her, hopeful it would be an easy lead. However, Charlie shakes her head no, and you sigh. 

At least you have a name. 

“So how are Donna and Lily doing?”

Charlie, Dean, and yourself were back sitting on another bench as Sam hurried to find out who Gary Bryman was. You knew it wouldn’t take long, Sam being Sam, so you had no problem waiting back with Dean and Charlie. 

“Oh, they’re doing okay, I guess” she smiles sadly. “Okay as anyone can do after their dad dies.” 

While Charlie doesn’t catch that you stiffen up at her response, you automatically knew that Dean would. You’re grateful when he doesn’t say anything about it right now, the subject being the last thing you wanted to talk about right now. 

“Well, I know it’s tough, but they seem like strong girls. I think they’ll be alright.” Dean’s were trained on you as he spoke, not liking how spaced out you were beginning to look. 

“Hey,” he mumbles, his voice managing to bring you back to earth. He places his hand on your back and moves it in small circles, finally catching your attention. “What’s wrong?” 

The shake of your head has Dean biting his lip so hard that it could have drawn blood. Both of you knew that was a lie, but you were forced to drop it when Sam appeared from behind you. 

“So, Gary Bryman was an eight-year-old boy,” Sam informs you, eyes flicking to how Dean’s hand was on your back before continuing. “Two years ago, he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camrym but nobody got the plates or saw the driver.”

Charlie’s face morphs into one of shock as Sam reads off the information he found. 

“Oh, my God,” she breathes out, and you all look to her for an explanation. “Jill drove that car.”

At this realization, you had a feeling you would be able to start putting the pieces together sooner than you thought. Hopefully, you could figure out why Mary was killing who she was and find her before someone else said the famous, yet deadly phrase. 

* * *

Back at the Shoemakers’ residence, you found the same thing. Another name and handprint had been revealed by the black light.

“Linda Shoemaker,” you read, sharing an incredulous look with the brothers at the familiar last name. The three of you exit the bathroom and walk back down the stairs to a curious Charlie and Donna.

“Donna, would Linda Shoemaker happen to be your mom?” You ask delicately, knowing that it was probably a sore subject, and you were basically a stranger to her. 

“Why are you asking me this?” She accused, not appreciating the intrusive question. 

“Look, we’re sorry, but this is important,” Sam attempts, and you were happy that it led to a truthful answer from Donna. 

“Yeah. Linda’s my mom, okay? She overdosed on sleeping pills. It was an accident, and that’s it.” Donna was becoming understandably defensive, but you had a feeling that there was more that she wasn’t telling you. Donna shakes her head before speaking again. “I think you should leave.”

Dean attempts to talk her into letting you stay, but she will hear nothing of it. 

“Donne, just listen––”

“Get out of my house!” She exclaims loudly before hurrying past Dean and up the stairs, wanting to get as far away from the three of you as possible. 

“Oh, my God,” Charlie breathes out. “Do you really think her dad could’ve killed her mom?”

Unfortunately, it was the only sensible explanation. The pattern that was emerging was telling you that Mary had a reason to her rhyme, and Mr. Shoemaker somehow fit the bill. 

“Maybe,” Sam nods.

“I think I should stick around,” Charlie suddenly announces, and you nod in agreement at her idea. It was obvious that Donna needed a friend right now, and Charlie could relay any new information that she got to you. 

“Alright. But whatever you do, don––”

“Believe me,” Charlie says, interrupting Dean. “I won’t say it.”

* * *

Back at the hotel, Sam, Dean, and yourself were hard at work, looking for any and everything that would help you with the case. You were busy looking at the papers you’d posted to the wall as Sam and Dean are talking to one another.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam halts, turning to his brother. “You’re doing a nationwide search?”

Dean nods, not taking his eyes off of the laptop in front of him. 

“Yup. The NCIC, the FBI Database––at this point, any Mary in the country who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me,” Dean clarifies as Sam crouches down next to him. 

“But if she’s haunting the town, she should have died in the town” Sam reminds him, but Dean quickly shakes his head. 

“I’m telling you, here’s nothing local, I’ve checked. So unless you’ve got a better idea––”

“The way Mary’s choosing her victims, it seems like there’s a pattern,” you announce to the brothers. You rub your eyes as you speak, irritated by the burning feeling that was a result of you rereading a stack of old newspaper reports and your lack of sleep. 

Both of the brothers manage to shelve their concerns about how tired you still looked when you finally came over and sat across from Dean. 

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” Dean commented, looking between you and Sam. 

“With Mr. Shoemaker and Jill’ hit and run––”

“Both had secrets where people died,” Dean finishes for you, understanding where your head was at. 

“Right. There’s a lot of folklore about mirrors––that they reveal all your lies, your secrets, that they’re a true reflection of your soul. Which is why it’s bad luck to break them,” you finish, sitting back in your chair, and trying to push back a yawn. 

“Yeah, so maybe if you’ve got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it and punishes you for it,” Dean contemplates, and you're lucky that they couldn’t hear how fast your heart sped up at that proposition. However, as long as you didn’t say, Mary had no right to come and get you, no matter how bad the “accident” was.

“Whether you summoned her or not,” Sam says before Dean turns back to the computer in front of him. 

“Take a look at this,” he directs and proceeds to print out the picture you’d taken at Jill’s house and a gruesome picture of a crime scene. You shudder at the image of the dead woman on the floor, but something else quickly catches your attention. 

“Looks like the same handprint,” Sam says, looking at the picture from over your shoulder. He was close enough to where you could feel his chest barely touching your back, and you had to ignore how much you enjoyed the heat coming from it. 

“Her name was Mary Worthington––an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana.”

You inwardly cringed at the idea of another lengthy car ride, but if it meant getting rid of Bloody Mary once and for all, you had no choice. 

* * *

“I was on the job for 35 years, detective for most of that,” the retired detective told you, walking back into the room where you and the brothers had been snooping around. The drive had been a little under two hours, and much to the brothers’ displeasure, your eyes stayed open the entire time. 

Sam had already told Dean that he wasn’t going to fall asleep, but both brothers had been secretly hoping that the drive would give you a little more time to get some shut-eye. You’d repeated the “I’m fine,” excuse, even though you were, in fact, far from it. 

Along with the demon’s words replaying in your head, the fact that it was revealed that Mary came after people who were secretly responsible for the death of another was now haunting you. 

Yes, your situation had been different, but it was still close enough to make you worried. You couldn’t have stopped it. You could have said something. You could have done something. But instead, you just stood there and watched as the horrific incident took place in front of you. 

“Now, everybody packs it in with a few loose ends,” the detective announces, rattling you out of your thoughts. “But the Mary Worthington murder––that one still gets me.”

“So, what exactly happened?” Dean asks, earning a suspicious gaze from the detective. 

“You kids said you were reporters,” he points out, wondering why you were asking about something you should have already known. 

“We know Mary was 19, lived by herself,” you step in, hoping the information you had found by yourself would be enough to convince the man that you were actually reporters. “We know she won a few beauty contests, dreamt of getting out of Indiana, being an actress.  _ And _ we know, the night of March 29th, someone broke into her apartment and murdered her. Cut out her eyes with a knife.”

The older man sends you an impressive look as he replies, “That’s right.” 

“See, sir, when we ask you what happened, we want to know what  _ you _ think happened.”

The detective looks at Dean for a moment as he thinks. He then silently walks over to a filing cabinet on the other side of the room, pulling out a box of files. 

“Technically, I’m not supposed to have a copy of this,” he says, setting the box down on the table in front of you. Sam takes a seat on the table, notepad and pen in his hand. You and Dean lean forward, all of you eager to see what was in the files. “Now, see that there, that ‘T-R-E’?” He then points to the mirror in the picture he’d pulled out, and you all nod. 

“I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer,” he reveals, and your eyes widen slightly at the theory. 

“You know who it was?” Sam asks the detective, perking up at the thought of getting another lead. But when the detective answers, he deflates. 

“Not for sure,” he says. “But there was a local man, a surgeon, Trevor Sampson. And I think he cut her up good.” 

“Now, why would he do something like that?” You wonder, more disgusted than curious. You hated to admit it, but if what the detective was saying was true, you wouldn’t have minded if Mary had already gotten her hands on him. 

“Her diary mentioned a man that she was seeing,” the detective told you, and Sam began to scribble down whatever he could catch. “She called him by his initial, ‘T. Well, her last entry, she was gonna tell T’s wife about their affair.”

“But how do you know it was this guy Sampson who killed her?” Dean asks, wanting to understand why the detective seemed so sure. 

“It’s hard to say,” he answers, shrugging his shoulders. “But the way her eyes were cut out, it was almost professional.” You nod at the man, finally getting why he had a reason to suspect Trevor. 

“But you could never prove it?” Dean finishes for him, and he shakes his head. 

“No. No prints, no witnesses,” he lists off. “He was meticulous.”

As the detective sits back down in the seat behind his desk, another question pops into your head. “Is he still alive?”

“Nope,” the detective answers. 

The sigh you breathe out is one of both relief and disappointment. Because he was dead, you wouldn't have to deal with the monster of a man. However, there was no question that he could have a role in helping you figure out what was really going on. 

“If you ask me, Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy’s secret. But she never could.”

At that moment, everything finally connected. 

Bloody Mary was finishing what Mary Worthington had started. Her secret cost her own life, and she was making sure that anyone who said her name ended up with the same fate. Now that you’d finally figured out what happened, it was time to figure out a way to stop her. 

“Where’s she buried?”

Unfortunately, the answer to that question made it obvious that taking her down wasn’t going to be as easy as you’d wished. 

“She wasn’t. She was cremated,” the detective answers, and Dean purses his lips in irritation. As his eyes trail to one of the photos on the desk, the mirror with Mary’s blood on it catches his attention once again. 

“What about that mirror? It’s not in some evidence lockup somewhere, is it?” 

The older man shakes his head. 

“Uh, no. It was returned to Mary’s family a long time ago.” 

You hang your head slightly at this answer, figuring that it probably would have been easier to get rid of if it  _ was _ in some evidence lockup somewhere. The only thing you could do now was search for it and hope that you would be able to get to it before Mary got the chance to hurt anyone else.

* * *

You were much more on edge leaving the detective’s house than when you arrived. Now that you knew Mary’s motive, it was nearly impossible to not wonder what were to happen if you did say the famous phrase. 

After getting back on the road, your first task was to call the family and see where the mirror was currently located. “Oh, really? Ah, that’s too bad, Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror. Okay, well, maybe next time. Alright, thanks,” Sam finishes, snapping the phone shut. 

Considering the overheard one half of the conversation and the strained look on his face, you had a feeling what he received wasn’t good news. 

“So?” Dean asks, wanting to hear what he had to say. 

“That was Mary’s brother,” Sam informs you and his brother. “The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago to a place called estate antiques, a store in Toledo,” Sam says with a knowing look on his face. 

At least the mirror was close by. 

“So, wherever the mirror goes, that’s where Mary goes?” Dean wonders aloud, annoyed that it took you all so long to figure out something that seemed so obvious. 

“Her spirit must be tied up with it somehow,” you propose, and Samnods along with you. 

“Hey, isn’t there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?”

You think on Dean’s questions for a moment before remembering that you read something along those lines when you were younger. “Yeah, there is,” you answer. “When someone would die in a house, people would cover up the mirrors, so the ghost wouldn’t get trapped.”

“So, Mary dies in front of the mirror, and it draws in her spirit,” Dean concludes, but something else was still troubling you. 

“Yeah, but how could she move through like, a hundred different mirrors?” You ask, sitting up in your seat and in between the brothers. 

“I don’t know,” Dean shrugs. “But if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it.”

You sit back in your seat as Sam says, “Yeah, I don’t know. Maybe.”

Before you knew it, Sam’s cell phone was ringing again. You all looked toward the device, wondering who could be calling now. Answering it, he’s stunned by the familiar and frantic voice on the other line. 

“Charlie?” 

* * *

Charlie sat on the bed, head buried in her knees as Sam, Dean, and yourself scurried around the room. You took blankets, sheets––whatever you could find to cover up every reflective surface in the room. 

What you gathered from Charlie’s panicked explanation, Donna did the deed of summoning Mary, and now it was after Charlie. After her loud and frightened exit from her class, the three of you were the first people on Charlie’s mind. 

You were the only people that she trusted right now. 

You were the only ones that could save her. 

Keeping a close eye on Charlie as you worked to remove and cover every reflective surface the eye could caress, you somewhat felt her pain. In all honesty, you weren’t sure how the hell you were holding it together, especially now considering that you were in a room with someone Mary had been called. 

As Dean went to cover up the mirror in the motel bathroom, you halt your steps and land your sorrowful gaze on Charlie. 

“Hey,” you try delicately, sitting down gently so as to not startle her any further. Luckily, the soft hand you place on her back as a comfort mechanism didn’t cause her to flinch, so you decided to leave it there. “Hey, it’s okay. You can open up your eyes now, Charlie. It’s okay, alright?”

It takes her a few moments, but she finally peeks out from where her jacket was shielding her tear-stricken face. 

“Now listen,” you begin. “You’re gonna stay right here on this bed. And you’re not gonna look at glass or anything else that has a reflection, okay? Now as long as you do that, she cannot get you."

Little did she know, while your words were employed to send her some comfort during this terrifying situation, you were also speaking to yourself. You had to keep it together. Both to keep Charlie as calm as possible and to keep the brothers from worrying about you more than they needed to. 

“But I can’t keep that up forever,” she whimpers, barely meeting your eye line. “I’m gonna die, aren’t I?” A single tear swipes down her cheek as she asks this question and you immediately shake your head. 

“No. We will not let anything happen to you, Charlie.  _ I _ won’t let anything happen to you,” you promise her, and she finally gains enough courage to look you in the eye. 

Dean and Sam admire the kind interaction for a moment, before sitting next to you and Charlie on the bed. 

“Alright, Charlie, we need to know what happened,” Dean commands, and Charlie takes a deep breath before answering. 

“We were in the bathroom. Donna said it,” she answers, but Dean shakes his head. 

“That’s not what we’re talking about,” Dean interrupts and Charlie looks towards him with fear in her eyes. “Something happened, didn't it, in your life. A secret. Where someone got hurt...” he trails off, nobody in the room needed a further explanation of what he was referring to. 

Charlie’s silence answers the question on its own, and you share a look with Dean before turning back to Charlie. “Can you tell us about it?” You ask, knowing it was a difficult but necessary conversation that needed to take place. 

“I had this boyfriend,” Charlie starts after her bottom lip wobbles slightly. “I loved him. But he kind of scared me, too, you know? And one night at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset and he said he needed me and he loved me. And he said…” 

Charlie pauses, not sure if she could get the next few sentences out. However, an encouraging look from you allows her to squeeze them past her lips. 

“‘Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I’m gonna kill myself.’ And you know what I said?” She briefly stops, feeling another round of tears well up inside of her, this being the first time she’s told anyone this story. “I said, ‘Go ahead.’ And I left.”

The three of you stay silent, knowing that this was difficult for her to tell you. She thought that it was her fault that her boyfriend was dead, and now, as far as she knew, she was going to have to pay for it. 

“How could I say that? How could I leave him like that?” Charlie asked, continuing the story. “I just… I didn’t believe him, you know? I should have.” 

Charlie’s now broken voice brings tears to your eyes, and it takes you a moment to collect yourself. She was so young, and you wished with all your heart she didn’t have to feel like this. You knew exactly how she felt, and there was no doubt that Sam could relate as well. The guilt was suffocating, and you knew of no way to rise above it and breathe freely. Jess, Charlie’s boyfriend, and your father––still had a stronghold on the hearts of those who felt they were the reason each was gone. They would always linger in the back of minds and you knew of no way to make it any better. 

* * *

“Her boyfriend killing himself, that’s not really Charlie’s fault,” Dean points out, squirting through the drops of rain that poured across his windshield. 

“You know as well as I do, spirits don’t exactly see shades of gray, Dean,” Sam reminds his brother. “Charlie had a secret, someone died. That’s good enough for Mary.”

You stared straight ahead as Sam spoke, certain that your lip was raw from how many times it was bitten today out of your fear of Mary coming for you. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking, it might now be enough to just smash that mirror,” Sam announces with a hard swallow, gaining your full attention. 

Dean asks him what he means, and you already knew it wasn’t going to be an answer you liked. 

“Mary’s hard to pin down, right? I mean, she moves around from mirror to mirror, so who’s to say that she’s not gonna just keep hiding in them forever?” 

Both Dean and yourself looked at Sam, waiting for him to continue. 

“So, maybe we should try to pin her down. You know, summon her to her mirror, and then smash it.”

You thought on the idea for a few seconds, before your eyebrows furrow as you go through all of the risks that went with this plan. 

“Well, how do you know that’s gonna work?” You ask Sam, and he looks back at you, shrugging his shoulders. 

“I don’t, not for sure,” he replies. Your uneasiness of Sam’s seemingly reckless plan was exponentiated when you hear the answer to Dean’s next question. 

“Well, who’s gonna summon her?”

“I will,” Sam answers with a deep breath, prompting Dean to shake his head in disagreement. “She’ll come after me.”

Some kind of switch flips in Dean, and you have to hold on to your seat when the car streaks to the side of the road. Flipping off the engine, Dean turns to get a good look at his brother. 

“This is about Jessica, isn’t it?” Dean wonders. Sam doesn’t even answer the question, let alone opening his mouth to confirm something that everyone in the car already knew. “You think that’s your dirty little secret, that you killed her somehow?”

You’d already had a feeling that this was true after your heart-to-heart in the motel room with Sam. There had to be a reason that he couldn’t get Jess beyond his mind for a reason, and this was it. The younger Winchester stays completely silent and Dean gives you a tired look before turning back to his brother. 

“Sam, this has got to stop, man,” Dean presses. “I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night, it’s gonna kill you. Now, listen to me.  _ It wasn’t your fault.  _ If you want to blame something, then blame the thing that killed her!”

“Or maybe you could even take a swing at one of us,” you offer, laughing bitterly. You knew that Sam would never hit you, but he honestly had every right to. “We’re the ones that dragged you away from her in the first place.”

Both of the brothers look at you immediately, Sam shocked at the proposition you’d given him. 

“I don’t blame either of you,” he promises. “And I would  _ never _ hit you.” 

“Well, you shouldn’t blame yourself, because there’s nothing you could’ve done,” Dean steps back in, but Sam will be damned if he was going to be convinced by someone who didn’t know what he knew. 

“I could’ve warned her,” Sam throws back to his brother, which only further works up Dean. 

“About what?” He exclaims, his voice growing louder in volume. “You didn’t know it was gonna happen. And besides, all of this isn’t a secret. I mean, (Y/n) and I know all about it. It’s not gonna work with Mary anyway.”

“No, you don’t.” Sam’s tone is neutral as he speaks, but the look he gives you through the rearview mirror informs you that there was something that he wasn’t telling you. 

“We don’t what?” Dean asks, his eyes flickering to you to see if you had any idea as to what Sam was talking about. 

“You don’t know all about it,” Sam clarifies, causing you to sit up further in your seat to get a better view of him. “I haven’t told you everything.”

Dean is silent for a moment, a perplexed look on his face as he racked his head for anything that could help him better understand. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, it wouldn’t really be a secret if he told us, Dean. Would it,” you comment, and Dean gives you a shocked look that you were just going to let something this important go. But you had no choice. Sam wasn’t ready to talk about it, and you weren’t going to push him. That’s what you would want for yourself, so as far as you were concerned, Sam could keep his secret to himself. 

However, Dean was a different story. 

“No,” he grunted, and you realized he was referring back to the plan. “I don’t like it. It’s not gonna happen. Forget it,” Dean commands before turning towards you. “And don’t you think about doing anything stupid either.” 

“Dean, that girl back there is going to die,” you remind him. “Unless we do something about it. And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now, we’re doing this. You’ve got to let Sammy do this. He can handle it” 

The eldest Winchester is sporting a strained expression, nowhere near comfortable with the plan. Dean gazed at Sam with the strained expression as your words fell over him, and he cursed silently when he came to the conclusion that you were right. 

Sam was going to have to do this. No matter how much he didn’t like the fact that Sam was hiding something, and the secret that he was hiding might get him killed by Mary. 

Sitting back in your seat as Dean started the engine back up, a feeling of dread washed over you. You didn’t necessarily lie to the brothers, but you knew they were going to see it that way when you were the one that blurted out the words to call Mary upon you. 

* * *

After a few minutes of working the lock, Sam finally was able to swing the door open, allowing you all access to the closed antique store. 

Goosebumps danced over your skin at the number of mirrors in the room, and you wondered which one could be Mary’s. Dean and Sam stood on either side of you, their eyes also running over the many mirrors around you. 

“Well, that’s just great,” Dean grumbles, before pulling out the picture the detective had given him. You all stared at the photo, burning the image of the mirror in your mind, which would hopefully make it a little easier to find. “Start looking.”

The three of you carefully began to lurk around the store, attentive to not tripping any alarms the owner may have set up to catch any intruders. Walking further down a hall, you finally spout a large golden mirror sitting in the corner. You would have thought it was beautiful if you didn’t know the dark story that it possessed.

“Maybe they’ve already sold it,” Dean calls out from another part of the store, and you don’t take your eyes off of the mirror as you respond. 

“I don’t think so,” you call back, and soon, the brothers are at your side, viewing the mirror from themselves. Dean pulls out the picture once again, making sure that the mirror you’d spotted was the correct one. 

“That’s it,” Dean nods, blowing out a breath to calm himself. “You sure about this?” Sam answers the question by handing his brother the flashlight, and Dean scoffs. 

Dean and yourself walk up with Sam to the mirror, not liking the throughout of him getting this close to it alone. Taking a deep breath, Sam opens his mouth to say the famous phrase. 

“Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary,” you rush out before Sam can say anything. Eye widening, the brothers look towards you with a mix of shock and anger. 

“What the hell, (Y/n)?!” Sam exclaims, and while Dean wants to say the same thing, he was rendered silent. You wouldn’t have done that if you thought it wasn’t going to work, which meant that you also had a secret. “Why did you do that?!”

You didn’t take the time to answer Sam, too focused on seeing if Mary was anywhere near. A bright light that cut through the window behind you caught all of your attention. 

“I’ll go check that out,” Dean whispers. “Stay here. Be careful.” Dean sends you a hardened glance as he walks away, and you had a feeling that (if you made it out) you would be facing a difficult conversation later. 

You grip the crowbar tightly in your hand, ignoring the agitated look on Sam’s face, and keeping your focus on the mirror in front of you. 

“So, should I try and guess what your secret is?” He mutters, and you huff out a nervous laugh. 

“Well, it wouldn’t really be a secret if I told you, Sammy,” you tell him, and he clenches his jaw at the thought of Mary coming after you when he was the one she should have been focused on. 

The quiet sound of a woman gasping causes you and Sam to whip to your right, expecting to see the vengeful spirit of Mary Worthington. With your eyes now off of the mirror, you had no idea that she was positioned right behind you, ready to take your eyes and your life for the secret you’d buried inside your heart long ago. 

A few more seconds ticked by with nothing happening, but you and Sam still stood close to one another, crowbars held high. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Sam looking past to your shoulder, no doubt to a mirror that held Mary inside of it. He nodded subtly, letting you know what you needed to do. 

Before you knew it, you swung your crowbar across your body, effectively smashing the mirror into broken shards. This seemed to have no effect on the spirit, given that she was now in the mirror to the other side of you. 

Sam took the task of smashing the mirror this time, both of you moving to stand back in front of Mary’s mirror. 

“Come on,” Sam breathed out. “Come into this one.” 

As you stared at the mirror with a determined look in your eyes, your heart nearly stopped when you noticed that the reflection of Sam and yourself were moving on their own. Sinister smiles grew on their faces as they stared back at you, and it was mere seconds before a stinging traveled throughout your eyes. 

The stinging quickly turned into an unbearable throb that was beginning to make its way throughout the rest of your body. Your crowbar is dropped with a gasp of air, the amount of pain you were experiencing becoming paralyzing. 

“It’s your fault,” Sam’s reflection began, his voice dark as he spoke. 

“You killed them,” your reflection continues. 

“You killed Jessica. And you killed your daddy.” 

They spoke together now, the blood dripping from their eyes having no effect on them as they continued to torture you with their words. You shook your head at their words, but the pain traveling throughout your body and the pain over your lost father was making it hard to think about anything else. 

“You never told her the truth, who you really were,” Sam’s reflection says. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it? Those nightmares you’ve been having of Jessica dying, screaming, burning––you had them for  _ days _ before she died. Didn’t you?! You were so desperate to ignore them, to believe they were just dreams. How could you ignore them like that? How could you leave her alone to die? You dreamt it would happen!”

The two of you were slowly falling towards the ground, the pain becoming too much to bear standing up. 

“And to think that you’re any better?” It was your reflection speaking now, and you braced yourself for what you were about to hear. “Why didn’t you help him? You knew it was going to happen, so why didn’t you do something about it? You could have yelled, screamed–– _ anything!  _ But instead, you just stood there and watched as your father got torn limb from limb right in front of you. He called out for you. He begged you to make them stop, but you didn’t. And now he’s burning in Hell, and you’re the reason why!” 

Before you could close your eyes in shame, Dean appeared above you and smashed the mirror into pieces. With Mary’s mirror destroyed, the pain finally decided to subside. All that was left was a dull throbbing throughout your head and the back of your eyes. 

“Sammy! (Y/n)!” 

Dean’s exclamation is paired with him lifting both your and Sam’s head to see with his own eyes that you were alright. He cringed at the bloodstains that painted your faces as he shook you back into the present. 

“It’s Sam,” he groans out, forcing a light laugh out of Dean and yourself. 

“God, are you two okay?” Dean asks, the thumb of the hand holding your face up caressing your cheek as he blew out a breath of relief to see you looking back up at him. 

“Uh, yeah,” you whimper, hoping that he didn’t catch anything that your reflection had spit at you. 

Dean then swiftly drags up and Sam to your feet. Throwing Sam’s arm over his shoulder and wrapping a steady arm around your waist, Dean begins to make his way to the door. Your feet are dragging but you’re able to help hold yourself up as you continue to maveuver out of the building. 

The sound of glass crunching under someone’s feet immediately halts your steps, the three of you freezing in your spots. Turning around, you’re met with the terrifying sight of Bloody Mary crawling over the pile of broken glass and making her way towards you. The pain from before soon returns, more potent and unbearable than what you previously experienced. 

Mary slowly treks towards you as you all crumble towards the ground. Pained grunts and groans are spilling from your mouths as she gets closer and closer. The air is becoming harder and harder to fill your lungs with, the pain burning its way through your body. 

You couldn’t help but think that this was something you deserved. This pain you were experiencing was all because you didn’t help your father. You believed that your reflection told you was completely correct. You should have helped him. The man with the black eyes told you the story only a few days before the other men with the black eyes came in and tortured your father right in front of your eyes. You remembered every single second of it, and while his screams and the blood were something you would always remember, that wasn’t even the worst part of it all. 

Out of the corner of your eyes, you spotted Dean struggling to grab one of the mirrors that laid next to him. Once he was able to hold it up above him and in front of Mary, she swiftly stopped moving, staring into the mirror at her own reflection. When the blood began to trickle out of her own eyes, you began to think you had a fighting chance. 

“You killed them,” you heard her reflection growl back at her. “All those people! You killed them!” May began to whimper in pain as her reflection spoke to her, and your eyes widened when she began to melt right in front of your eyes. Mary let out one last groan before dissipating into a tiny shard of glass that resembled a broken mirror. 

As soon as she was gone, Dean threw the mirror to the floor, making sure that there was absolutely no way that she could ever come back. 

You all let out huffed breaths of relief at what you hoped to be the end of the case, trying to recuperate from the extreme waves of pain you’d just encountered. 

“Hey, guys?” Dean mumbled, and you turned to him, eager to hear what he was going to say. “That’s got to be like what? 600 years of bad luck?” 

You could always leave it to Dean to make you laugh in the toughest situations. 

* * *

The car was completely silent as Dean pulled up to Charlie’s house. You could tell that just by looking at her that, although she was still shaken from what she’d experienced, she was happy for it all to be over. 

Dean halts the car and turns around to look at Charlie with a sigh. 

“So this is really over?” She asks, looking between the three of you. 

Dean nods, reassuring her that it was. “Yeah, it’s over.”

With that, Charlie sends all of you a grateful smile. “Thank you,” she says sincerely, and you give her a meaningful rub on the shoulder to let her know that it was no problem. She grins at you all once again before opening the door and exiting Baby. 

As she is making her way up the driveway and to the front door, Sam calls out for her through the lowered window. 

“Your boyfriend’s death,” he starts, swallowing at the knowingly difficult topic, “you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn’t have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen.”

While Charlie only nods at Sam’s advice, you knew she heard him. She leaves you with one last smile before she enters the house. 

Dean claps his brother on the shoulder once Charlie was safely inside, giving him a knowing look. 

“That’s good advice.” The brothers share a smile at Dean’s comment as he pulls off into the road. As he presses his foot into the accelerator, he peaks at you through the rearview mirror. He could tell that the smile on your face resulting from what he said was entirely fake. It didn’t reach and shine in your eyes, and he decided that he was finally ready to tell you what had been on his mind since last night. 

“Hey (Y/n)?” Dean calls out, and you respond with a hum. “I thought I told you not to do anything stupid, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes at the man, shrugging your shoulders with a teasing smile. 

“Well, it worked didn’t it?” You retort, and the brothers can’t find a way to argue with you. 

“Yeah, about that…” Dean trails off. “We know that only worked because you have a secret bad enough for Mary to be pissed about. You gonna tell me what yours was, or am I just going to have to figure it out on my own?”

Dean takes your stubborn silence as a no and reluctantly turns his attention to Sam. 

“What about you?” Dean asks, and Sam shakes his head with a laugh. 

“Look… you’re my brother and her best friend. And we’d for you. But there are some things we need to keep to ourselves.” Sam turns away from Dean and immediately makes eye contact with you through the rearview mirror. 

Even while you were writhing on the floor in excruciating pain, both of you heard the other’s secret. Sam now knew about your father, and you now knew about Sam’s nightmares.. Breaking the guilty gaze with Sam, you think back to what he said to Charlie. 

While it was advice that Sam could use, it was essentially nothing to you. Your father’s death was your fault. Yes, sometimes bad things happen, but this bad thing could have been avoided. As your reflection said, you could have stopped it, but you didn’t. 

Instead, something deep and dark inside of you told you to let them keep going, and your conscience paid for it every day that followed .

* * *

_ There was something different about the man with the black-eyes tonight.  _

_ He appeared as soon as your father had wished you goodnight and shut the door. He was greeted by your big eyes and innocent face as he walked up to your crib, which would usually break out the tiniest of smiles onto his face.  _

_ But this time it didn’t.  _

_ Instead of a smile, his face was plagued by a regretful scowl, and while it wasn’t directed at you, it still found a way to falter your excitement. For the next few seconds, he just stood and stared at you. His eyes were as intense as a raging storm at sea, and you were the ship stuck in its monstrous waters.  _

_ “I have some bad news, little one.” He took your curious gaze as a sign to continue. “I have to go bye-bye for a little while.”  _

_ It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he was given his orders and it was his job to follow them. No matter how much he wished to wrap you up in your yellow blanket and whisk you somewhere away from all of this, he couldn’t. The plans had already been set into motion, and there was no going back now.  _

_ Tomorrow, your life would change forever, and there was nothing he could do about it.  _

_ As the two of you look at each other, the man’s cold, dead heart struggles to not clench at the sight of your now watery eyes. Your two-year-old brain had recognized the word as one that your parents said to you before they departed for the house longer than you favored. Your small hand reaches over the side of the crib and out for him as a low whine leaves your throat, not understanding why he hadn’t started telling you a story yet.  _

_ He chuckles at your impatience, noting that it was something he had missed dearly.  _

_ Just as the man was moving to shush and quiet you, low footsteps began to sound themselves from the hallway. He freezes and pauses his breathing, unsure if they were headed towards your room or not.  _

_ Turning back to your crib, he knew he only had a few moments before whoever was walking down the hall entered the room. Even though he was discouraged with the fact that this would be the last time he would see you for a long while, something else made it a little easier to bear.  _

_ As you peeked back at him, your eyes gave off the faintest glimmer of purple. With that, he knew that the wait to see you again would be ever so worthwhile. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Pretty please let me know how you're liking it! <3 
> 
> Next Episode: "Skin"


End file.
